


Run, stay

by allhalechris



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Blow Jobs, Closet Derek, Cuddling, Derek is soft for Stiles, Dereks in Foster home, Drug Use, Drugdealer!Derek, Drunk Driving, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Foster home, Friends With Benefits, Hale fire, Hand Jobs, High School, Human, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marijuana, Masturbation, Nicknames, One Night Stands, Partying, Power Bottom Derek, Protective Derek, Sex, Underrage Drinking, Versatile Sterek, jock!Stiles, mild violence, vomitting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:39:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allhalechris/pseuds/allhalechris
Summary: Derek: Do you wanna sleep with me?Stiles: Do u mean like a nap or are we gonna fuck?Derek: YesThe one where Derek is a low level drug dealer who grew up in the system and tries to win over Lacrosse Jock Stiles, aka son of the Sherriff, who has a thing for self destructive really really ridiculously good looking, soft gangsters.





	1. You've got balls

**Author's Note:**

> Had this idea for a while, wanted to share.

If you had asked Stiles two days ago, how his Summer break was going, he probably would have shrugged and made a “meh” sound.

Summer was hot which meant wearing clothes that showed an embarrassing amount of skin when you're a thin, pale, teenage boy. But it also meant the occasional party with Scott and the rest of the Lacrosse team.

If you were to ask Stiles now however - having currently been hiding behind the bins in the park across the street from his house for almost an hour, Scott crouching next to him looking slightly less scared shitless - he might look at you with wide eyes and fierce eyebrows, before slapping you in the face with a sarcastic comment.

For three days straight Derek Hale and his posse of wild dogs - with the exception of Erica, Stiles liked Erica - had been chasing Stiles out of his own house. You'd think the fact that Stiles’ Dad was the sheriff would intimidate them, even a little. But nope. They were persistent.

“Look bro, I know you said you didn't do anything but this is ridiculous. You know you can tell me right,” Scott shuffles in his place against the bins and looks at his friend wearily.

“Dude!” Stiles says, wincing immediately and lowering his voice. “I did _not_ sleep with Cora Hale. How can you even-”

“You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. It's just given our current predicament you must have done something to piss her off.”

Cora and Stiles had both attended Jackson Whittemore's party last weekend, they'd been shitfaced drunk and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't find Cora ridiculously attractive. Ridiculously attractive but drunk. Really drunk.

During the party, Stiles followed her to one of the bathrooms, at her request - he was drunk not some creepy stalker - and,

“She blew me off, man. We might have kissed but I-” he presses a thin finger against his temple, trying to push his memories forward. “Yelling, lots of yelling. She was freaking out about something, threatened me and then left. I passed out in Jackson's bathtub, you remember,”

Scott's mouth twitches at the memory of Stiles completely wiped out and drooling.

“Exactly. Then a week later her bodybuilding brother is throwing bricks through my window and chasing me up and down my street!” Stiles throws his hands up in the air, whacking the bin on accident, it rattles slightly and both boys stiffen in panic.

After a second they relax and Stiles rolls his eyes, “So let's just talk to these guys.” Scott begins casually, and Stiles is illfully reminded of his best friend's selfless/ bravery and blah blah.

Whatever. Scott's hero complex is going to get them killed, or at least beaten the shit out of by the buffest non-athlete at Beacon Hills.

“I know Isaac, he's alright and Boyd-”

Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up, “ _Alright?!”_ He shakes his head, unable to list all the ways in which Isaac Lahey and Vernon Boyd were _not alright_.

 “Scott, you know I love you and if I were ten pounds heavier and 100 times less of a coward, I would totally follow you across the street. But I'm not. And if you get up, I will run so fast in the opposite direction,”

Scott takes a minute to look at Stiles, taking in his shaking knees and the nervous twitch in his hand as he speaks.

 _This is Derek Hale they're talking about_. You don't reason with Derek Hale. You _run_ from Derek Hale; the guy lives in a foster home after surviving a fire that killed his whole family, it's no wonder he never smiles and doesn't like anybody. And the only people he does like around him are his sister and his three "beta's" as Kira refers to them.

The guys tough. He's in a fight every week, or getting called to the principles office for trying to sell weed on the premises.

Stiles remembers buying weed off of him once but being so scared he'd had to ask Erica to get it instead, it's how they became friends.

Eventually Scott agrees and Stiles is so relieved he sighs, falling back dramatically and unknowingly knocking over one of the bins that were shielding him.

He catches only a glimpse of Boyd nudging Derek and pointing towards them before Scott is dragging him up and pulling him behind him.

 

They run for what feels like hours, all the way through the park and passed the school. It's getting dark and Stiles is convinced his lungs are about to cave in, his arms are moving faster than his legs and he's panting so heavily it hurts.

“Quit running Stilinski! You're just making it harder!” Isaac is amused and Stiles wishes he had the time or energy to turn around and slap the smug look off his pretty face.

“It's been three days, narc. Just give up and take the beating like a man!” Derek's voice is low and sends a particularly unpleasant shiver down Stiles’ spine as as he and Scott make another right.

The Sheriff's station is in sight and the taunts from Stiles' chasers are getting quieter.

He whips his head around to see Derek and the others slowing down, Boyd is the last to stop and glares at Stiles.

“Dude what are you doing, come on!” Scott pulls Stiles by the arm and drags him through the door, where they catch their breaths.

  
Later, almost certain Derek and his pack have left, Stiles’ Dad has his deputy drop the boys back to Scott’s house. The entire ride there Stiles can't stop fidgeting.

_What if they're waiting at Scott's?_

_Maybe he should have just done something with Cora, wait no_.

 _She_ blew _him_ off.

 

“This is such bullshit!” Stiles lets himself fall back on Scott's bed, one hand smacking himself across his face.

Scott is sitting at his desk, “I know, after three days you'd think they'd give up.” he tugs on one of the draws and pulls out a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. “Something to take the edge off?”

Drinking is part of the reason Stiles is in this mess but he can't get Derek's voice, the taunts, out of his head. He can still hear his heartbeat racing in his ears and it is driving him up the wall.

Scott takes the first swig and wipes a lazy hand over his mouth before sitting back in the wheely chair and passing the bottle.

Stiles eyes the thing for moment, he holds the bottle loosely watching the liquid away from side to side. It's almost calming.

He presses the bottle to his lips and loses himself in the sting of it against his throat. Stiles tilts his head back, losing balance and slides down the bed onto the hardwood floor.

Scott's giggling as he puts on some music, Stiles bounces his head off beat until he can barely hear it.

The buzz kicks in and his head feels light and heavy all at the same time. The bottle is empty and rolls out of his hand.

A few minutes later something wakes Stiles up, his ass is beeping. That, or his phone is ringing.

It's Erica. He makes a disapproving noise before shushing Scott's bad singing and answering.

“If you're calling to send more threats… can you not.” His voice is slurred and there was probably a better ending to that sentence but whatever.

_“Stiles are you drunk?”_

Stiles clears his throat and tries to sit up straight, “Nope” he says, emphasising the _p_ and giggling a little. A lot.

“ _Listen, I told Derek to lay off for a while. You should talk to Cora.”_

“Why? She is beyond obviously sensible communication. Wait. Obviously beyond. Whatever.” Scott gives him an encouraging thumbs up and Stiles lifts himself up off of the floor, almost bashing his head against the end frame twice. “I want to talk to Derek! Put him on the phone!”

“ _Don't be an idiot Stiles.”_

“No! I want to talk to him! He threw a brick into my house Erica! A brick! I haven't had to run this much or this hard since tryouts last summer. It's not right!”

Stiles is pacing now, banging randomly on Scott's walls and picking up various objects.

_“Just sober up and call Cora, I'm not saving your ass anymore alright? I told Derek to back off that's all I-_

Something surges in Stiles, the alcohol has given him a new sense of confidence. He puffs up his chest and grabs the bat tucked away behind Scott's bed.

“You're right Erica. And neither is Scott. I'm saving my own ass!” At that, Stiles hangs up and pushes his phone into his back pocket.

Scott shoots up and claps a hand on Stiles’ back. “You got this bro… What are you doing exactly?”

“I'm gonna confront the problem head on. If Derek Hale wants a fight..” he burps, “Well actually I'm hoping it'll just be more of a heated conversation.”

Scott nods and dives onto to his bed to snatch up his car keys. The closer he gets the the car, the more Stiles thinks what a terrible, awful, stupid, outright horrible idea this is.

He manages to get Scott's mums car to start before exchanging an uncertain look with his best friend and starting off down the street.

_Terrible. Awful. Stupid. Outright Horrible idea._

Stiles goes through at least two red lights and winces at the earful awaiting him when his Dad finds out. Added to that is the impending fear of what will actually happen when he arrives at Derek's house.

What is he doing? This a new level of drunk. Never in a million years would skinny, defenceless Stiles think he could take on Derek, looks like a statue of some beefy Greek God, Hale.

After tonight he's definitely going to have to lay off the drinking. Quit it entirely.

Well. Maybe not entirely.

It hits Stiles all too heavily when he reaches Derek's front garden, he swerves, heart racing and drives onto the grass before hitting the horn on accident.

He shakes of the unnerving feeling and the voice in his head screaming _turn back_   _you fucking idiot_ and drags himself out of the car. There's no damage, that he can see, and he's relieved.

There's movement inside the house and he sees a light come on through the window, Stiles reaches across the seat to get his bat, ducks as lifts it over his head.

“Derek!” he yells, swaying as he closes the door and stumbles up the grass. The door opens and Stiles ducks behind the car before darting to the other side of the building. _Shit shit shit._

Stiles vs Boyd, Isaac and Derek? Maybe not.

When he hears chatter at the front of the house he takes it as his cue to either run or stay. He'd come all this way and Momma didn't raise no quitter.

There's a gate that leads into the garden, Stiles goes through, stumbling his way to the back entrance of the house. He ends up in the kitchen, drunkenly navigating his way up the stairs and through the house, trying to be as stealth as possible in his current state.

All the doors have names across them, which is probably expected in a foster home, all except one. This door is bare, save a do not disturb sign that reads “Fuck off” with a sarcastic smiley face, hanging from the door knob.

Stiles hears the front door close and footsteps shuffling downstairs, he takes a deep breath and pushes on the door and squeezes pass. 

_Please don't be Derek's room. Please don't be Derek's room. Please don't be Derek's room._

Derek is laying on his back, one hand across his chest the other up next to his head. He's shirtless, probably naked. Stiles isn't sure. He doesn't care. He definitely doesn't care that Derek looks so peaceful sleeping, or that his skin fucking glows under the little light coming through the window. Or how it bounces off his abs, all six of them. It ridiculous really.

This boy is ridiculous. More than that, he's a completes asshole and has been harassing Stiles and Scott for something they didn't even do.

And Stiles came here for a reason. Without thinking he swings the bat over his shoulder, stumbling back before falling forward. _Fuck_ , he forgets how heavy this thing is.

All of a sudden, Derek's looking up at him, eyes wide and deadly and one holding the bat Stiles had almost knocked him out with.

“What the fuck Stilinski?” Derek moves quickly, snatching the bat out of Stiles' shaking hand and shooting up out of his bed.

 _Not naked_ , Stiles notes. Or doesn't note. Whatever. 

Stiles panics, has to stop himself from screaming and turns to run out the door.

There's a thud and then Derek's in front of him, slamming his fist against the door and shoving Stiles back into the room. “Are you trying to piss me off some more?” he barks and Stiles can't feel his legs.

“I-i” he stutters repeatedly before pressing his lips together in a thin line. His buzz is wearing off and he's getting sleepy. It's hard to concentrate, harder to hide his fear.

His fear and the flush of his cheeks as his body reacts to how unecessarily close Derek is to him. Stiles' tee shirt is thin and maybe it's the alcohol, but he thinks he can feel Derek's chest against his through it.

He notices his stubble, how it decorates his jaw and outlines his mouth and bone structure. Stiles gulps, taking in the colour of Derek's messy bed hair and darker shade of his eyebrows which are knotted together in a constant frown. 

Stiles had never wanted teleportation powers as bad as he did in this moment. 

“Jesus,” Derek steps back,  _finally_ and...smirks. Is he laughing? Stiles frowns. “You've got some balls Stilinski, I'll give you that.”

“I have?” Stiles’ head is spinning, he scratches the back of his neck and knots his brows together.

Derek folds his arms over his chest and Stiles’ eyes fall to the floor, trying not to stare. “Either that or you're drunk, which by looking at you,” he eyes up Stiles who is blatantly struggling to stand up, “is more likely.”

“I didn't mean- I just wanted to tell you to back off.”

Derek reaches around and picks up the bat off his bed, traces a finger down the side of it and arches a thick brow, “And this?”

“Um,” Stiles laughs nervously and shifts his stance onto the other foot, “That's for er…”

“Relax. I'm not going to hit you. I've already had Erica threaten to rip off my balls if I go near you again.” he drops the bat and adjusts himself in his pants. Stiles isn't looking. “Besides, Cora’s over it.”

“She is? _Oh thank God_.” Stiles pauses and looks at Derek, “What did I do exactly?”

“Shit, she said you were oblivious but I just thought it was an act.” Derek rolls his eyes and Stiles is almost relieved he doesn't have to look into them for a split second.

What even colour are they? Ridiculous.

“She's gay, you idiot.” Derek says simply.

“What?” Stiles freezes. Gay? As in, not interested in guys, not interested in Stiles. Gay.

A part of him is relieved, he'd felt bad about the whole thing all week, convinced he had seriously offended her.

A bigger part of him is intrigued at how nonchalant Derek is about it. Stiles had sat with his Dad for an hour explaining bisexuality when he came out, if only he'd tried Derek's technique instead of beating around the bush. 

 _I'm bi, you idiot_. Would have gone down much smoother and sounded a lot cooler than the stuttering and nervous ramble Stiles had come up with.

“She told you at the party, that's why she blew you off. She only had me and the boys scare the shit out of you because she thought you were going to out her.” he says, “But it's obvious you didn’t remember.”

“I don't- I didn't, honestly.”

“Right. And it's going to stay that way, your Dad might be a narc but I won't hesitate to kill you.”

Stiles swallows hard, the look in derek's eyes is cold. There is nothing light hearted or joking about the threat, its for real. Stiles nods, pushes his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they're shaking.

“Good.” Derek says, unfolds his arms, his chest is exposed now and Stiles is swallowing hard again. “Narc?” his voice sounds far away, Stiles is getting sleepier.

For a hazy moment Stiles can't hear a thing, he thinks Derek is saying something by he ain't sure. He doesn't strain to hear him, just sways and waits for the feeling to pass.

Drinking was such a bad idea.

“Stilinski,” Derek sings, stepping forward carefully and nudging Stiles, hes still swaying and the room spins for a split second before turning upside down all together as Stiles falls back, he hears Derek say his name, “Stiles” a last time before hitting the ground head first.

 

***

 

Stiles wakes up in bed, head pounding and neck aching. He groans and even that hurts.

What has he done to himself?

He attempts to sit up, quickly realising he's not in his own bed, is fully dressed and across the room from a naked Derek pulling on briefs - or boxers, he's not sure - next to his dresser.

He falls back immediately, face flushed and bangs his head on the back of the bed. “Shit,” he hisses and tries to sink into the sheets, hide himself from the embarrassment of last night and Derek.

“You're good at that,” Derek starts, he's pulling on a pair of jeans and turning around. His arms flex as he does the zip but Stiles isn't looking, he's in so much pain he can't even appreciate the view.

“At what? Making a complete fool of myself. I get that a lot,” he says, wit a little sharper than last night. “Usually I charge for my entertainment,”

“I was going to say hitting your head against shit but, yeah that stuff you said works too.” Derek shrugs and pulls his head through a short sleeve black tee. He walks over to the door and for a second Stiles thinks he might leave and give him a moment to get his shit together and figure out why he slept in Derek Hale's bed last night. Instead, Derek bends over and returns with a pair of shoes in his head.

Stiles is stuck for where to look as Derek walks about the room finding various pieces of clothing and putting them on.

He remembers drinking at Scott's, driving badly and after that it's all a little fuzzy.

“So,” he starts cautiously, trying  
to find the best way to ask _did we fuck last night?_ without offending Derek, he'd only just got him to stop trying to kill him.

“What? This isn't a bed and breakfast, narc.”

Stiles dismisses the nickname and rolls his eyes, “I… thanks for letting me crash. Where did you sleep last night?” he winces, preparing himself for the deadliest glare the world has ever seen.

But Derek doesn't flinch, or glare or _do_ anything apart from his famous shrug. “Well it's my bed isn't it.” he says.

Something in Stiles’ stomach tightens and suddenly he's aware of how foreign and cold the bed is, the bed he slept in… with Derek… the same Derek Hale who'd been chasing and threatening to murder him just a few days ago.

Ridiculous.

“Jesus, don't be so twitchy, I didn't try to fuck you or anything. I'm into tits and you're ass is about as flat as Katy Perry’s live singing.”

Well. Stiles has heard it all. Derek Hale making a pop culture reference? Is he still drunk?

“Flatter, even.” Derek continues after a moment then he's standing up and rummaging through the mess on his bed side table. Stiles can smell his cologne, its nice, subtle.

“Thanks.” he says dryly and scoots over to the other side of the bed to get up.

“I'm keeping your bat by the way.”

Stiles looks around, he can't see it so he just accepts that he's not getting it back. “Sure. Think of it as a Thanks For Not Kicking The Shit Out Of Me gift, from me to you” he smiles and Derek's mouth does something similar.

“Yeah. Anyway, you know that restaurant Danny's family owns?” his voice is normal, low and steady.

The same couldn't be said for Stiles’ heart rate. A restaurant? What the fuck does Derek care if Stiles knows that restaurant or not? He did, of course but what is the relevance.

Its in a dodgy neighbourhood, maybe Derek is going to ask Stiles to meet him there and _actually_ kick the shit out him. Maybe he felt bad about doing it last night because of Stiles’ blind and drunken sense of bravery.

But he'd said Cora and Erica had called him off. Stiles didn't know Cora very well but he and Erica were close and you did not try to piss her off. Derek must know that. So maybe he wasn't going to end up a cripple after all.

What else do you do at restaurants? Besides eat and go on...dates.

Stiles realises he hasn't answered or even exhaled for a abnormal length of time. Derek is by the door now, looking at him funny, as if he's just realising Stiles might be mentally deficient.

“Uh yeah,” he says probably too quickly.

“Good. Meet me there in three hours.”

“Why?” his voice cracks and comes out dryer than planned.

“Because if you don't, I'll return your Thanks For Not Kicking The Shit Out Of Me gift when I shove it down your throat. Got it?” Dereks grin is eerie, showing all teeth as he arches a brow.

Stiles swallows down a sharp pain in his throat. “Mhm. Three hours. Got it.”

“Good. Now get the fuck out, take your car and learn how to drive.”

 


	2. Puff, puff, give

_"Are you sure you want to go by yourself?"_ Scott asks over the phone; Stiles calls him as soon as he gets home to give him the vague details he remembers of last night and also to reassure him that Melissa's car is still intact.

"No but I'm going to anyway. I'm almost pretty sure he's not going to kill me but, who knows." Stiles jokes but it's not funny.

But then again, if Derek did want to kill him wouldn't he have done it last night; if he was the complete asshole Stiles made him out to be he would have just kicked his drunk ass outside. Not let him sleep in his bed.

If nothing else, Stiles is praying that Isaac and Boyd aren't tagging along, he has an incling that Derek only acts like a jerk when he's around them. But he knows that's a bit of a stretch, perhaps Derek just couldn't be bothered to carry Stiles outside and back to his car and that's the reason he let him stay the night.

Yeah. That had to be it.

_"Well text me when you're on your way and when you get there and when you're leaving, okay?"_

Stiles rolls his eyes but agrees and promises to do exactly that, then he hangs up the phone and picks out something to wear before showering.

He doesn't dress up because it's not a date, and usually he'd wear the same outfit twice in a row but he'd spent the night at Dereks so he'd notice and that's a little embarrassing.

He takes his jeep and gets the location for the restaurant up on his phone. It's a 20 minute drive which gives him ten minutes to panic/ overthink/ seriously regret this decision and ten ministers to prepare himself for whatever is going to happen.

He pulls up to the meet on time, the restaurant doesn't open for another half hour but he can see some movement inside through the windows.

Stiles steps out of his jeep and waits by it awkwardly as three bodies pile out of the restaurant.

"So glad you could make it, _Biles_." Isaac spits and grins, making Stiles clench his fists at his side.

He takes a deep breath and shakes it off, "Biles? Wow, that's funny. Hilarious actually," he starts and leans off the hood of his car to walk towards the boys. "Almost as hilarious as that wet poodle on top of your head. Whoever said perms were dead can go to hell, am I right?"

Isaac snarls and Stiles' expression is smug as Isaac charges towards him only to have Derek stop him with a firm hand on his chest.

"You didn't bring your little butt buddy McCall," Derek says folding his arms, "I'm surprised. Aren't you scared I'm gonna take you back behind those bins and beat the shit out of you?" He's smirking and one of his eyebrows arches.

Stiles wants to retaliate but he _is_ in fact scared Derek brought him out here to fight, in which case a sarcy comment wouldn't really work in his favour right now.

"I'm not, don't worry." Derek says after a while, probably noticing the growing fear evident in Stiles' eyes. "Come on,"

Stiles follows Derek and Isaac inside, he's still a little scared but he texts Scott on the way in to say he's alive.

The restaurant is average size, one floor, made up mostly of booths and the kitchen is placed at the back. Stiles took Malia here once, during that awkward period of their friendship wherein they attempted to date, they serve the same junk as McDonalds only it's overpriced and you get a knife and fork. Laeni's, it's called.

"So," Stiles says as the door swings shut behind him.

Isaac pulls himself up onto the counter and puts a tooth pick between his teeth, eyeing Stiles and grinning.

"Is this the part where you put a coin in the jukebox and as me to jive with you?" Stiles isn't shaking as much but don't for a second mistake his stillness for calm. Stiles Stilinski is anything but calm.

Derek rolls his eyes, "No."

"Good because I can't dance,"

"I'm offering you a job." Derek says dryly and Stiles blinks twice; a job? Not a fight but a... job?

"They promote you to manager or something? Is Curls here that shit of a cook that you want _me_ to work for you?"

Isaac glares and Stiles is pleased. He's also more than ready to go home. He doesn't want a job, especially one where he'd have to answer to the likes of Isaac or Derek.

Besides the whole thing was suspicious, a job in exchange for what? Promising not to snitch to his father about Derek's side business.

What was the catch exactly?

"Believe it or not I'm actually trying to do you a favour. So do you want to get paid or not?"

"And if I don't want your oddly generous job offer?" Stiles is careful with his words, shifting his stance and folding his arms.

Derek smirks again and gives him a look.

"Please, we've seen the piece of shit jeep you pulled up in. You're gonna take the job and quit being a little bitch about everything." Isaac says then spins and pushes himself off the counter and through the kitchen door behind.

Stiles waits a moment, Derek doesn't move to follow Isaac but he's stopped smirking.

"It's just a job, waiting tables cleaning and cooking and shit. It was Erica's idea." his gaze shifts, "If you don't want it, fine but I'd like to stay in E's good graces so..."

Stiles comtimpaltes for a moment; he doesn't need a job but it couldn't hurt to have a few extra coins in his pocket.

On the other hand, the thought of spending 9-5 hours with Isaac's annoying ass and Derek's fucking glaring, it brings to surface new levels of anxiety.

"For how long?" he asks, ignoring the whirlwind of thoughts in his head.

"Just the summer. Don't even know if you're any good yet, narc."

Stiles rolls his eyes and unfolds his arms, "Alright," he says, "On one condition,"

Derek arches a brow and waits for Stiles' request.

"You stop calling me a narc."

There it is, that thing again. Stiles is sure it looks like a smile but it could just as easily be a wince and coming from Derek Hale, the latter was more likely.

He scoffs and turns around, heading towards the kitchen door, "Sure thing, batboy."

On the other side of the door Boyd is in full chefs gear, flipping burgers on the grill. Isaac isn't being completely useless either, taking dishes out of the washer.

Stiles and Boyd exchange a dry nod but no words. Stiles is pretty sure Boyd _can_ talk, and positive he just doesn't want to talk to Stiles.

"You'll be on tables for today and Erica will train you later this week. Isaac is on dishwasher and Boyd and I cook." Derek walks as he speaks, indicating to Stiles where everything is and warning him to not touch stuff he doesn't know how to use, "Unless you're looking to get burned, then go for it." Isaac adds.

Derek swaps his black tee for a uniform top matching the one Boyd has on and then ties his apron. "Grab one of those black bags and I'll show you where we put the leftovers,"

Isaac follows them, of course, never missing a moment to further irritate Stiles. They toss the bags in the large disposal outside.

"So," Stiles starts, smirking to himself. This is all very neat and tidy but Stiles isn't stupid, he knows something's up. "What are you guys really doing here, besides serving burgers with an extra helping of secret sauce," he makes a rude gesture with his fist and Derek laughs, or something like it.

Isaacs not as amused, he lunges at Stiles, fistsfulls of his collar and pins him to the bin, "What are you suggesting, Biles?" he spits and Stiles winces.

"Easy Isaac," Derek puts a hand on his shoulder and they exchange a look.

"I'm not suggesting anything, I've literally bought a draw off of you guys before."

"I knew it! So you are a narc!"

Derek sighs deeply behind them and glares, "Relax. He won't snitch,"

"He won't?"

"I won't?"

They speak at the same time, both look at Derek with the same doubtful expression.

"I wouldn't be so sure of yourself Derek, if your mut here doesn't get his hands off me I'm gonna have a SWAT team down here _so_ fast to shut down whatever the hell you're doing," Stiles is totally talking out of his ass but he's also pulling it off.

Derek watches him for a second, debating whether it's an act or not, he seems amused by it too but Stiles is unsure if it's amusement because of Isaacs hands around his throat or Stiles brilliant tough guy performance.

Niether lasts long, Derek tells Isaac to let go. He steps back, letting Stiles' now crumpled shirt fall back against his chest and brushes a hand over his shoulder patronisingly and grins.

"Thank you." Stiles breaths and fixes his shirt before lifting a hand and pinching Isaacs cheek, "Good dog," he sings but his surge of confidence is quickly shut down when Derek seizes his arm and pulls it away from Isaac's face,

"Don't push it, batboy." he lets Stiles hand drop, his grip was tight but not so much that it hurt. "And before we tell you anything about 'whatever the hell we're doing', we need to make sure that's the first and last time you threaten to rat on us, ever."

Stiles hesitates, glancing at Isaac and then back at Derek. _Fuck it_

He nods surely and Derek gives him a softer look that probably means he believes him. He then goes on to explain that deliveries happen on Wednesdays and that pick ups can be made at any time after that and only during opening hours,

"If people want to buy anything but a burger and fries after 10pm they can fuck off, we're closed. Got it?"

"Yeah but why sneak it in here isn't it more obvious?" Stiles asks,

"What would be obvious is if we accepted picks up from outside the restaurant, a bunch of teenagers huddled out back of a family fast food place? Their asking to get stopped and searched," Isaac responds dryly,

This is a fair point, Stiles thinks. He also thinks how ridiculous it was that he's agreed to this, offered his help and would now be lying to his Dad for months.

Derek runs through eveything once more before it's time to open the doors. Erica turns up a few minutes after, the place is mostly empty so Stiles takes to dressing the tables.

Erica appears from behind the counter, now in uniform although she kept her platforms on, obviously. Her hair is down and newly curly and Stiles can't lie, she's beautiful but _way_ out of his league.

"So," she spins around to the other side of the table Stiles is currently wiping and smiles widely, "You can thank me anytime."

"For?"

"Oh I don't know, making sure Derek didn't murder you? Getting your lazy ass a job?"

Stiles scoffs, "Right. That, of course. Thank you so much Erica."

"You're welcome," she flips her hair over one shoulder and slides herself onto the chair inside the booth, dragging Stiles in next to her.

"Stop, I don't want to get in trouble," he says, looking around frantically to see if Derek's watching but the only other people are a tween couple in the booth opposite and a man sititng by himself.

"By who? Derek? He likes to pretend he's in charge but the truth is Danny only hired him because he used to think he was hot, I'm the only one actually qualified for this job."

"Danny's into Derek?" Stiles says lowly, almost himself.

"Oh shit sorry," she squeezes his arm gently, "I forget you have a thing for him,"

Stiles stiffens in his place and he swears he feels his heart stop a second.

Stiles absolutely, most definetly, no way in hell, does not have a thing for Derek Hale.

"What! For who?"

Erica frowns and nudges him, "Danny. Duh." she says and Stiles can feel the relief leave his body. Of course she meant Danny. Stiles had been crushing on him for the passed year.

There would be no reason for him to think Erica meant Derek. How ridiculous.

"Isn't that the whole reason you got so drunk at Jacksons? Because Danny and Aiden hooked up?"

"Oh shit, yeah it is." Stiles remembers a little better now; Danny was the only one actually invited to Jackson's party but he'd invited Scott and Stiles too, probably out of pity now that he thinks about it.

"I saw them making out in the pool like fifteen minutes before I bumped into Cora,"

Theres a loud noise that follows, a sweet sort of cackle, he turns to see Erica with her head thrown back laughing at him.

"What?" he asks, offended more than slightly.

"You mean to tell me you got shitface drunk in under fifteen minutes?"

Great. More things to be humiliated by about that night, just what Stiles needed.

"Hey, being a lightweight just means you don't have to spend as much money and you'll start having fun a lot faster than everyone else." he's doing a bad job at selling it but Erica stops laughing at least.

"Of course, Bambi." she coos, "It also means you pass out sooner and get your skinny ass dragged home before 9pm."

Stiles pulls his arm out of hers and sticks his tongue out childishly before standing up to finish cleaning tables.

  
By the end of the day Stiles' legs are numb, he stupidly forgets to ask Derek when he's allowed to go on break so spends 5hours on his feet.

Erica and Boyd leave first, hand in hand and Stiles isn't sure if he's hallucinating due to sleep deprevation but he's almost certain he sees Boyd smile.

He braces hismelf go back into the kitchen where he knows Isaac is waiting to say something that'll just put the cherry on top of an exhausting day.

But they're not in there.

He double checks, takes off his apron and pushes open the back door. Derek and Isaac are out by the bins with two other boys, huddled closely. Stiles knows he should go back inside, senses it, when one of the boys looks up and curses.

"Ain't that the Sherriffs kid? You brought a fucking narc to the pickup? Are you kidding me Lahey?" he says and shoves a small plastic sleeve back into Isaac's hands.

Isaac shakes his head then turns around and glares at Stiles.

He should definitely go back inside.

"That's fucked up," the other boy says, looking at Derek who then turns to look at Stiles as well. He rolls his eyes and walks over, pushing Stiles through the door and back inside with one heavy hand.

Oh fuck, Stiles thinks. He's had a job for less than an day and is most definitely about to get fired. That must be some kind of record.

"Man, I'm so sorry! Erica and Boyd left I was just looking for you guys and-

"Shut up."

Stiles presses his lips into a thin line. Derek leans back a little towards the door, there's a pause then he steps forwards and almost knocks Stiles over to let Isaac back in.

Stiles realises how close he and Derek are but Derek isn't doing anything about it, so he shuffles to one side awkwardly and exhales.

"Did he buy it?" Derek asks, turning around.

Isaacs busy shooting daggers at Stiles but he answers eventually, "Yeah," he passes a twenty to Derek who examines it, nods and then passes it to Stiles.

Stiles isn't sure who's more confused, him or Isaac.

"Take it then," Derek says, sighing. When Stiles doesn't do anything, just stands there staring at the money with raised hands, Derek steps forward and curls his fingers into the pocket of Stiles' jeans, pushing money inside.

Stiles stiffens immediately but tries to look relaxed.

"I-i don't- what's it for?" he asks, shakily, hoping the boys will assume he's just scared and not thinking about Derek's fingers so close to his crotch.

"Insurance." Derek says, shrugging. "And you didn't fuck anything up today, well done batboy."

Isaac leaves the room first, barging passed Stiles even thought he clearly could have gone around him, then Derek who pats Stiles' shoulder as he passes him.

"Right, thanks but er, can we talk about this Bat-boy thing."

"Nah, I kinda like it. Narc was a bit harsh and this is much more fitting."

Stiles wants to ask why he needs a nickname at all, why Derek doesn't just call him Stiles but a part of him was afraid he might stop with the nicknames all together and he doesn't want that.

Derek and Isaac had taken a bus to work so Stiles offers to give  them a lift, or rather they get into the car and he says "Sure, okay, I'll drop you home." and rolls his eyes. 

Stiles usually doesn't mind driving in silence but with Isaac's senseless humming and Derek looking out of Stiles' window instead of the one on his side, the awkward tension is far too much.

He switches the radio on and half expects Derek to come out and say something cynical like he doesn't listen to music, then he reminds hismelf of the Katy Perry comment and relaxes a little.

When they arrive, half an hour later, Stiles parks and claps his hands together. "So..." he starts. Isaac jumps up and pushes the car door open, "Later, Biles." he says which is more than Stiles expected.

Derek shuffles in his seat, undoes his belt and reaches for something in his pocket. Stiles assumes it's money for the ride and waves a hand at him, "Honestly man, there's no... _oh."_

Its a roll up. Derek examines it and then reaches for something else in his pocket, a lighter probably. 

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks slowly as he watches Derek put the thing between his lips and hold the lighter up at the end of it. 

He flicks the lighter three times and curses again before answering, "What's it fucking look like?"

Derek sits up and goes for it again, the tick of the lighter starts to irritate Stiles so he takes it out of Derek's hand and leans forward across the gear stick to hold it up to Derek's lips. 

He can feel Dereks eyes on him but doesn't want to make things awkward so he looks down at the blunt, concentrating on getting the lighter to work as soon as possible. 

Two flicks and it's lit. Stiles is a little disappointed as he draws back against his seat. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Derek draw in, his chest rising slightly for a brief moment before he removes the blunt from his lips and exhales. 

After a second, once the smoke has left his nose and mouth, he closes his eyes and wets his lips, "Thanks," he says softly. 

Stiles just nods and taps at his steering wheel nervously. He doesn't know why but when he's next to Derek it's like his body wants to relax but then it realises _oh shit I'm next to Derek Hale_ , and something inside him knots up. 

Derek doesn't say anything when he passes Stiles the blunt, he sits back in the car seat a little and rests a hand behind his head but doesn't say anything. 

Stiles is more than familiar with smoking etiquette; puff, puff give. He draws in, probably for too long, coughing a little but letting the burn cool inside his chest before breathing out again. 

When he goes for another hit he becomes suddenly very aware of Derek's eyes on him, again. 

He closes his eyes as he sucks in, a little longer this time as he feels pressure to put on a show. He lets its sit in his chest before letting a smooth cloud of smoke escape his lips and curve up through his nostrils.

"Fuck, batboy." 

Stiles opens his eyes and smiles lazily and let's his head fall back against the car seat. 

Derek takes the blunt and they rotate that way for a while.

Stiles' head is bowed against the steering wheel, turned so he can watch Derek blow smoke out and into his car; his head is thrown back, arching his neck and Stiles is pretty high right but derek looks _good_.

Derek turns his head and smiles, "I'm guessing you do this quite a lot then, with McCall?"

"Yup. Probably shouldn't though, Coach would go berserk," Stiles pulls a funny face, immitating an angry coach and to Stiles' surprise Derek finds it hilarious. 

"My foster parents don't let us smoke at home, or drink. The only time I ever get to do this was at school," he says sleepily, "I miss it," Derek passes what's left of the blunt to Stiles, who sits up to take it.

"Well you can come around mine whenever man, my Dads rarely home and Scott's cool. Not just for bunnin', I mean he's a good listener too and so am I. Scott went through this horrible break up like last year- I think it was last year, anyway I can't imagine that foster homes very nice I mean I know those people are doing their best and you have Isaac and Boyd and Erica but if you ever wanna just talk dude, I'm like totally up for that,"

Stiles' words pour out his mouth like a never ending stream, he doesn't realise how much he's said or what he's said until he's said it.

By then the damage is done.  

Without looking over at Derek - who's staring at Stiles in a sort of daze, half baked and half shocked at Stiles forwardness - Stiles puts the blunt between his lips again to shut himself up.

If that didn't do the trick, Derek's lips inches from his certainly does. Derek leans across, one hand on the back of Stiles seat and the other lazily falls to one of his knees. 

Stiles doesn't know what to do at first but he's already taken his hit and can't hold it in much longer, he exhales and Derek moves closer, eyes locked with Stiles as the smoke passes between their lips.

Derek sucks in and exhales through his nose before leaning back, leaving Stiles a little hot and a lot dazed. 

Theres another brief pause and Stiles tries not to think about Dereks big hand pressing into his knee when he leaned over, it wasn't a big deal.

Also not a big deal? Shotgunning. Him and Scott had done shotgunning loads of times. Its totally normal.

"Thanks for the ride," Derek says casually and slips out of the car.

Stiles is pretty sure he's sky high right now but it's the best feeling and all he can think is

1\. he can't wait to do it again

and 2.  _"What the fuck?"_


	3. Let the gays- I mean games begin

Stiles’ alarm doesn't go off.

He's fucked.

He starts work at 11am...it's 1pm.

He takes a shower in record time and throws on the same thing as yesterday, only it stinks of weed so he has to change.

Almost breaks his leg on his way downstairs, grabs a piece of toast off of his Dad's plate and kisses him on the forehead before running out the door.

He doesn't have Derek's number and Erica isn't picking up, adding to his panic.

If Stiles had driven this way during his test he probably wouldn't have got his license but instead been hired as one of the stunt men for The Fast and Furious movies.

He's distracted for a moment at the thought of it, drifting like a badass somewhere in the streets of Rio.

When he gets to the Laeni’s he parks around back like Derek had told him to last night.

He walks through the kitchen, passes Boyd and Isaac who shakes his head and wags a finger at him. Stiles replies by flipping him off before grabbing an apron and leaving.

“Where the hell have you been?” Erica says, from the till. She's pissed, turns quickly to smile and serve a customer and then back to shoot daggers at Stiles.

“Is Derek here yet?” Stiles’ eyes search the room frantically, ignoring Erica’s eyes burning into him. “I'm so sorry, my alarm didn't-

Erica puts a hand in Stiles face, silencing him. “Your uniform is in the locker room. Hurry up and maybe I won't hit you,” she says, smiling, which just scares Stiles even more.

He makes a left through the door to the locker room; it's small and there's a bathroom next to it. He finds his locker labelled, surprisingly, with his actual name. There's a note and key taped to the front with the password.

He unlocks it and shoves his backpack on the top shelf, above where his uniform has been neatly folded.

Stiles is pulling off his tee shirt when the door opens and Derek appears.

He freezes, half naked.

Derek speaks first so Stiles doesn't have to trouble himself with what greeting is appropriate for him to say, “E said you were late.” Derek passes Stiles and opens his own locker, pulls out his clothes and removes his tee shirt.

For a moment they're both shirtless and Stiles is very aware of it. But he doesn't stare.

Well okay maybe he does. Just for a second.

He's seen Derek shirtless before, his body is ridiculous but this time feels different because Stiles is also shirtless.

But he doesn't overthink it.

“Yeah, I'm really sorry man. I overslept.” Stiles says, averting his gaze as Derek sprays himself - still shirtless - with cologne. Stiles recognises the smell but again, doesn't overthink it.

He pulls on his work shirt, it's a snug fit but it makes his arms look a little bigger, not as big as Derek's but that's an unrealistic goal.

“And wait, didn't you just get in as well?” Stiles asks, forgetting himself.

Derek's holding his work shirt in one hand when he turns and looks at Stiles, brows raised. “And? I'm the manager.”

Stiles scoffs. He's not trying to piss Derek off, it just sort of… happens.

“Of course you are. My bad,  _Boss_.” he says, smirking a little to himself as he closes his locker door shut.

Derek's on him in a second, the hand holding his shirt pressing Stiles against his locker. “What the fuck are you smiling for? You got something else to say, batboy?”

Stiles clear his throat, Derek's pretty close and he's staring, making it impossible for Stiles to look away. He swallows, “Nothing, I just heard it a little differently.” He's very aware of Derek's bare skin so close to him, he could reach out and touch it if he wanted, he bets it's soft. “Erica says she's in charge and I'm beginning to think she's more scary than you are…”

“Oh really?” Derek leans in and Stiles’ whole body tightens. “Well she might be in charge but I'm the one who's gonna put you flat on your ass if you turn up late again.”

Stiles probably would have pissed himself had it not been for the faint smirk on Derek's face, telling him this threat was a little softer than the others.

Derek is still pressed against him, his face still pretty close. Stiles can think of two things to do, one of which would most definitely get him slapped so he decides against it. Instead, he shrugs off Derek's  hand and rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah.” he says and pushes himself off the lockers.

Derek's still smirking as he eyes Stiles and pulls on his work tee shirt. “Get your flat ass outside and quit acting like a tough guy,” he says, nudging him out the door.

  
Erica calls Stiles over to the tills; shows him how to open and close it and how to work the menu. It takes a few jokes to get on her good side again then she leaves him to serve a few customers.

A guy comes in, about Stiles’ age, looking suspicious as fuck.

“Sup man, what can I get you?” Stiles asks and pretends he isn't about to fall asleep at the till.

The guy eyes Stiles and makes a face, “Who the fuck are you?” he asks, looking around.

Stiles is taken aback, where are this little shits manners. Stiles is a working class citizen now, he deserves respect. He leans back and taps one of his fingers over the name tag on his chest.

“Stiles?” The guy reads, “Where's Derek? Or Erica?”

Less than impressed with this dudes attitude, Stiles rolls his eyes and points towards Erica who’s chatting to a small family sitting at one of the booths. “Derek's in the kitchen. Can _I_ help you with something?” he asks dryly.

The guy looks at Erica and then back to Stiles, his expression uncertain. “Fine. Can I get a _green tea_.”

Stiles almost laughs, this guy does not look like someone who drinks any sort of tea, let alone green tea. He shrugs anyway and looks down at his screen, selecting drinks.

“Sorry dude, there's no- _oh_.” A light bulb goes off above his head and something clicks in Stiles. The boy rolls his eyes and makes an impatient expression. “Got it. How many sugars?”

“Four.” the boy responds bluntly and pulls a twenty from his back pocket and slaps it on the counter.

Stiles ducks behind the till and opens the metal cupboard underneath, like Derek had showed him. He reaches behind the many paper coffee cups until he finds one with the number four written on it in messy handwriting.

He lifts the lid quickly and checks that there are four roll ups in there. All good.

“Here you go,” he says and hands the sealed cup over to the boy.

Stiles is hesitant when he passes it over, the boy seems twitchy. But he takes the cup and says “Great. Thanks.”

Pretty pleased with himself after making a successful pickup, Stiles calls Erica over and she takes the twenty and slips it in her bra. “Well done, Bambi.” she says and pinches his cheek before turning back to serve tables.

This time Stiles remembers to take his lunch break so he's not as tired by the end of the day. He finishes his shift and gets changed in the locker room by himself. When he gets outside, Derek is leaning against the hood of his jeep with his arms folded.

Stiles stops a few paces in front, smirks and says, “Are you gonna mug me?”

Derek rolls his eyes and unfolds his arms, he throws something at Stiles, a lighter. Stiles catches it and smiles as Derek leans off of the car. “I doubt you've got anything I want, batboy.”

Stiles sparks up the blunt once they're both seated in the car, then passes it to Derek and starts the engine. He's only semi baked when they get to Derek's house. Stiles parks, connects his phone to the car and plays some music.

 

“Oh I fucking love this song!” Stiles waits as Derek presses play and _Carry Out by Justin Timberlake_ pours through the speakers.

Derek takes a long hit of the blunt, his eyes roll back and he exhales, flicking his tongue a little and making an ‘o’ before belting out, _“Turn me on my baby don't you cut me out!”_ He’s smiling lazily and Stiles is pretty sure it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. But he's probably just high as a kite.

Derek's very attractive, Stiles would even go as far as to say he's hot. But beautiful? Nah, that's like lovey dovey shit. He's just a good looking guy.

 _“Number one, I'll take two number three's. That's a whole lot of you and a side of me. Now is it full of myself to want you full of me,”_ Stiles sings, bobbing his head slightly off beat. _“And if there's room for dessert then I want a piece,”_

Derek leans across the car to take the blunt off of Stiles, he lets it hang between his lips after taking a hit and, _“Baby get my order right no errors. Imma touch you in all the right areas. I can feed you, you can feed me,”_ Stiles has moved forward as well, ready to shotgun Derek when he takes his second hit.

The song plays in the back but Stiles barely notices as he draws the smoke from Derek's slightly parted lips. After a second they're both smiling again, Derek falls back and giggles.

Stiles knows he's staring but he can't stop himself, Derek's head is thrown back exposing his neck and the few hairs of stubble that decorate it. His throat moves when he laughs and his eyes are closed and Stiles notices just how long Derek's eyelashes are. It's not important, lots of guys have long eyelashes, but after that Stiles can't stop seeing it.

Derek's lips are moving and it takes Stiles a moment to realise he's been speaking for a little while.

“...I miss them man, so much.” his voice is slow and quiet as if he's forgotten Stiles is in the car with him. Stiles stays quiet, watching everything blur out of focus save for Derek's lips. “Cora and I don't really talk about it well, I don't. She tries but I always change the subject or say something to piss her off on purpose. I don't mean it, I just- fuck this shit it hitting me all wrong.”

Stiles wants to say that it's okay, urge Derek to go on and maybe even tell him how much he misses his Mum as well. But if Derek has really forgotten they're sitting together, Stiles is afraid he might get spooked if he speaks up.

Derek takes a second hit and passes the blunt over, it's nearly finished.

“Fuck,” Derek runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, “I'm such an asshole. I'm sorry man,”

“For what?” Stiles says quickly and Derek's body jolts a little.

“Nothing. I'm high as fuck right now, ignore me,” his voice is strained and causes something to twist in Stiles’ stomach. “I should go,”

Stiles' mind is buzzing for more than one reason. He opens his mouth to say something but he can't find the words.

For a guy that talks so much it's pretty ironic.

Derek stumbles out of the car after thanking Stiles for the lift, he almost falls flat on the pavement and Stiles jumps, “You alright?” he asks, a little more worried than he should be but Derek doesn't notice.

“I'm a pro. I'm good.” Derek says dusting himself off, “Fuck outta here,” he's smiling when he says it and it's infectious.

Stiles starts the car and heads home.

  
It's pretty much like that for the majority of the week; Stiles and Derek end the day's hot boxing his jeep and listening to music they pretend to know the words to. One of them will let something slip that probably wouldn't come up in a regular conversation, but Stiles doesn't want to overthink it.

He does, however, think about how much he's grown to like Derek. Beyond the ridiculously hot body and face to match, Stiles learns that Derek is a little soft on the inside. Although he has to be high as a kite to let any of his gooey side out, Stiles is glad to know it.

On his day off Stiles misses it so much; what he had Derek have. He can get high with Scott but it would feel wrong almost.

You can't smoke with someone else, it's like cheating isn't it? Or something like that. Stiles tries not to be too bothered about it.

He spends most of the day in bed, watching movies and facetiming Malia.

She's painting her room in one of Stiles’ old Lacrosse shirts, he'd given it to her when they dated.

 _“Stiles have you even showered today?”_ She says, walking away from the camera with a wet brush and tray of blue paint.

Stiles is sitting at his desk in front of his laptop, head leaning on one hand. “I'm going to. It's my day off, let me live.”

_“Day off from what? Cockblocking Scott and overstaying your welcome at his house?”_

“How dare you. Scott and Melissa love my company.” he says, half believing it. “And no, I told you I'm a working man now.” he puffs out his chest and Malia turns around to roll her eyes.

_“Being Derek Hale's bitch hardly classifies as work,”_

Stiles makes a face and waves a sassy finger. “I'm nobody's bitch.” he says, “Anyway, I think he's warming to me. We’re more like frenemies with...benefits now.”

Malia laughs and drops her paintbrush to sit back in front of the camera. _“What benefits?”_

Stiles doesn't know why he blushes but he does and Malia makes a face at it. “Nothing- I mean, we just smoke together.” he shrugs, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible.

Okay so maybe Stiles has been over thinking their after work activities. It's just that, it's only ever them two; Derek never invites Isaac or Boyd. It's their time. It's nice and with the amount of shotgunning that goes on, Stiles finds it harder and harder to convince himself it's not an intimate thing.

 _“Don't do anything stupid okay?”_ Is all Malia says after a while.

“Me? Stupid? I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  
Stiles does shower, eventually, in the evening, just as his Dad leaves for his night shift. He half attempts to tidy his room but its a mess and the motivation just isn't there.

He falls into the soft comfort of his mattress and scrolls through his phone. Derek's number is there, staring back at him. Daring him.

Would it be weird to call and ask for a smoke break when they haven't seen each other all day? Probably.

Stiles sighs and rests his phone on his chest just as it rings. He jumps a little and reads the caller ID.

“Derek?” he answers, sitting up and trying not to freak out.

 _“Of course it's me, you idiot. Where are you?”_ Stiles hears Derek make a noise that sounds like a wince or hiss, which only adds to his confusion.

He's positive today is his day off and even if it wasn't, it's 11pm what could Derek possibly want from him right now.

He knits his brows together and replies, “At home…”

There's a short pause before Derek speaks again, _“I need you to come and pick me up,”_ he says and Stiles hears movement in the background.

“From where? Why?”

 _“Just do it."_ he snaps, _“I'll text you the address. Fucking hurry up, I'm freezing my ass off out here.”_ he doesn't wait for Stiles to respond and just hangs up.

Alrighty then.

Stiles pushes his phone into his pocket and takes his jacket off the door. He checks himself out in the mirror as he leaves, he doesn't know why. His shirt might have been dirty, or something.

As he settles himself in his jeep, his phone bleeps again with a text from Derek. He keys in the address and follows the fastest route.

He tries to imagine all the possible reasons why Derek would want Stiles, of all people, to pick him up. And what exactly he was doing at midnight with no way of getting back home.

Stiles pulls over where the directions end and gets out of his car; he's about to phone Derek and ask where the hell he is but he spots him sitting on the edge of the pavement across the street.

“You got another side job I don't know about?” he asks, arching a brow.

Derek looks up and scowls at him. He lifts his head slightly and blows out a puff of smoke and Stiles notices the blunt between his fingers.

“You took your fucking time,” he says and puts his hand out so Stiles can take the blunt.

“You only gave me half of the directions, Einstein. And we're in the middle of nowhere,” Stiles only takes a short hit, even though he’d missed smoking with Derek he is a little pissed Derek had started without him. There are unspoken rules.

Derek stands up, wincing and gritting his teeth together. Stiles frowns and then, “Oh fu- what the hell happened to your arm dude?”

Stiles grimaces as Derek twists his arm and looks down at it; there's quite a lot of blood - too much for Stiles’ liking - and a semi huge gash in the centre of it all.

“What did you do? Get in a sword fight and forget your sword?”

“No,” Derek puts his hand out for the blunt, “Some junky asshole cut me,” he lets the blunt hang between his lips as he talks and pokes at his wound with a lazy finger.

“With what? A switchblade. That look disgusting Derek,” Stiles also notices the small cut and bruising under Derek's lip as he draws in a smoke. Then he flicks the blunt onto the floor and starts walking towards Stiles' jeep.

“No, with a pair fucking of scissors. He was an absolute idiot.”

Stiles goes around to the other side of the car and unlocks the doors so Derek can get in. He watches painfully as Derek lowers himself into the seat, holding his arm close to his chest.

He looks at Stiles wearily, “It doesn't look that bad right?” he asks “Kinda badass though?”

“No, dude. It's gross.” he starts the engine and Derek explains how he'd come out to sell but the guy was new and gave off bad vibes so Derek had decided, last minute, not to sell to him.

Obviously he didn't take it so well.

Derek assures Stiles that he got a few good hits in before the crazy pothead pulled out a pair of scissors on him.

“So why’d you call me?” Stiles asks carefully when Derek finishes speaking. “Why not one of your mutts?”

“None of them drive,” he says obviously and Stiles realises it was a stupid question. But he half expected - hoped - Derek would say _because I trust you_ or _because we're friends._

It's a ridiculous thought, really.

“And I need to get this thing patched up as soon as because it fucking hurts so could you drive a litttle faster.”

Stiles ignores him.

“Trust me if I could've called someone else, I would have.” he continues, “Don't start thinking this means I like you or anything.”

Stiles is looking at the road but he smiles a little to hismelf. “You like me.” he says, “You just pretend not to, but deep down you're a big old softy,”

He knows he's probably pushing it and Derek is going to hit him any second but he can't help it.

He reaches across and pokes gently at Derek's face, missing his cheek and jabbing his bottom lip instead.

Out of the corner of his eye Stiles can see Derek glare and then smile, just a little, before swatting his finger away.

“Touch me again and I'll cut your fingers off. One by one, got it?” he says, shuffling in his seat.

Stiles makes a left turn, following  
the directions and smirks. “Whatever you say D-dog.” he sings and puts both hands on the steering wheel.

Derek's glaring again, then his brows fly up, “D-dog?” he repeats.

“Oh sorry, um.. D-Man? D Hizzy?” Stiles is pretty pleased with himself at this point. “Derk?

“Stop.”

Stiles makes another turn and then stops at a red light. Derek is still examining his wound, he flinches and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“So, does your place have stuff to sort that out, then?” he waves a finger in the general direction of the bloody arm and makes a disgusted face.

Derek shrugs. “Probably but my foster parents won't be up at this time and I don't where they keep that shit.”

“Okay, so the hospital then?”

Derek makes an expression that reads, _that better be a fucking joke you dumbass_ , and Stiles nods. The light turns green and he turns right onto the same street as their school.

“Well,” he starts after a short and oddly uncomfortable silence, “I’ll take you to mine, I think Scott's Mum gave us some first aid stuff.” he says.

“You got food?” Derek asks and Stiles just gives him this look before shaking his head and smiling.

“Yes, Derek. We have food.”

 

***

  
Stiles drops his keys and jacket on the table by the stairs then he rushes to the kitchen to find the first aid kit. Derek makes himself comfortable in the living room, kicks off his shoes and slumps down into the couch.

While he's in there, Stiles grabs what's left of his bottle of vodka and puts a pizza in the oven before returning to Derek with the appropriate stuff to dress his wound.

“Here,” he hands him the small box kit and puts the alcohol on the table in front.

Derek looks as though he knows what he's doing, he pours some vodka into the lid and then onto his cut. He hisses and curses lowly, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“You got anymore of that?” he asks through gritted teeth as he wipes his arm clean.

“To drink? Yeah, one second.” Stiles disappears upstairs for a moment, grabbing his last bottle of Jack Daniels from the back of his wardrobe. When he returns Derek's covered his cut with a bandage and is just drinking the vodka straight from the bottle.

Stiles takes a seat next to Derek and opens the bottle, takes a swig and passes it over.

“Thanks.” Derek says quietly, “Where's the remote so I can turn off this gay shit.” he sits back and waves a hand at the tv dismissively.

Stiles frowns and turns to the screen opposite them. Gay shit? His eyes follow the familiar figure on the screen; Hugh Jackman running naked in the snow, Stiles almost laughs. “It's not gay, dude. That's Wolverine. Haven't you ever seen X-Men before?”

Derek lifts his eyebrows and shrugs, not looking at Stiles.

No fucking way.

“Are you serious? Never? Wow. What a sad little life you lead.”

 _“Blow me,”_ he says and rolls his eyes.

Stiles scoffs, “And that would somehow be less gay than watching X-Men?”

Derek picks up one of the pillows he’s resting his arm on and throws it at Stiles. “Just put something else on,” he says hitting Stiles once more before putting the pillow down.

Stiles is laughing as he tries not to spill the bottle of Jack. “I'm sorry dude, it's only right that I educate you. We have to watch X-Men now.”

He takes another swig and then jumps up before Derek can say no or throw anything else at him. He almost forgets about the pizza in the oven when he runs to his room to pick out the _X-men origins: Wolverine_ movie.

Stiles carries the dvd under the plate of slightly burned pizza and puts it on Derek's lap so he can set up the movie. He makes an unflattering noise when he feels a piece of food hit him in the back of the neck.

“Get you flat ass out of the way then, batboy” Derek calls, folding a slice of pizza and eating it in three bites. Stiles watches in awe.

The movie begins and Derek wolfs down most of the pizza, slapping Stiles’ hand away when he tries to get some and spouting some bullshit about how he's bigger than Stiles so he needs more food.

They finish most of the Jack Daniels halfway through the movie. Derek pretends he's not enjoying it but every time Logan gets his claws out and guts some random guy, Derek gets this little smile on his face and nudges Stiles. It's probably because he's drunk but at one point, Derek leaves his arm on Stiles’ knee, the empty bottle of Jack hanging from his hand.

“No!” Derek shouts, dropping the bottle and probably spilling it. “They did not just kill his girlfriend! What the fuck is this Stiles?”

“Aye, you called me Stiles!” he says, smiling lazily. He's pretty drunk by now and it would probably be a good idea to start drinking some water; it's 2AM and they have work tomorrow but all Stiles can think about is Derek Hale sitting on his couch watching comic book movies with him. This is the stuff romantic comedies are made of.

“Dude, I'm not saying I'm going to cry but if I do and you tell anybody,” he points a lazy finger in Stiles’ face, “I'll shit the beat out of you!”

“Do you mean, beat the shit out of me?”

“Fuck you, smartass,” Derek says with a little smile on his face as he shoves Stiles down the couch. Stiles shields his face with his arms and Derek shakes him playfully then leans back up and rubs his face, “My brain is crying,” he winces and rocks back in his seat.

Stiles jumps up, probably too quickly and stumbles to the kitchen without thinking. He grabs a glass from the cupboard and pours Derek some water.

“Yo buddy,” he sings as he comes back into the living room, walks around to Derek and puts the drink out in front of his face and accidentally spills it.

It's fucking freezing so Derek jumps up, “Fuck!” he's laughing but Stiles is still pretty scared. He puts the glass down quickly and makes a poor attempt at wiping the water off of Derek's chest.  

After a while he's just doing it to feel him but he's drunk so it's understandable.

“Oh my God! Stop, you're not helping,” they're both laughing now and Stiles scratches the top of his head.

Derek steps back a little and it's only then that Stiles realises how close they are- were. Derek's got this stupid smile across his face, his eyes are still a little red from smoking earlier, probably made worse by the drinking. He's looking down at his wet top and the messy bandage on his arm and laughing. They're a fucking mess.

Stiles sways and reaches a hand out to balance on Derek, he misses and their bodies brush against each other.

Derek stiffens and shoves him back. Stiles trips, hitting his ankle on the back of the table and falling flat on his ass and then hitting his head on the chair next to it.

“Shit are you okay?” Derek puts his hand out to help Stiles up off of the floor but it's batted away.

“What the fuck, Derek?”

“I- I thought you fucking tried to kiss me!”

Stiles pulls himself up, holding the back of his head. His heart is racing a little; tried to kiss Derek? He didn't. He doesn't think he did anyway. His head is ringing and the fall probably didn't help. He hisses as he presses two fingers against the pain.

If Stiles had ever thought of kissing Derek, and he was more than almost certain he hadn't, that idea had been completely shut down by the hard hit to the hardwood floor. Fuck. He was really going to feel it in the morning.

Derek's saying something and Stiles is staring at his lips but he's not listening, at all. He wouldn't try to kiss Derek, that's ridiculous. He was just falling and they're both really drunk.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, waking Stiles out of his daze. “What the fuck are you staring at?”

“Nothing. Sorry I…” Stiles knots his eyebrows together and tries to keep his balance as he continues to stare at Derek's lips. He flicks his eyes up slightly and Derek's gaze shifts and Stiles just goes for it.

If he wasn't so drunk and Derek hadn't put the idea in his head he probably wouldn't have done it. Probably.

Dereks lips are warm but he only feels them for a second and his mouth is almost numb from all the drinking so it doesn't really count. Derek grabs Stiles by the shoulders and tears him away, he's scowling and Stiles does everything in his power not to shit himself because that would be really fucking embarrassing.

He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists by his sides, “Fuck, please don't hit me-

Stiles knows two things; 1. that he is very, _very_ drunk and

2\. that his imagination is not nearly creative enough to make up how amazing it feels to have Derek's lips on his and _kissing_ him.

So this is definitely happening. It's real. And it feels fucking amazing. And it's not just the alcohol making him think that.

Derek's hands slide down Stiles’ arms and then he's hugging him close to his chest. He pulls away suddenly and Stiles realises it's because he hasn't moved or kissed back, he shakes it off and pulls Derek back towards him. It's maybe a little too hard because Stiles stumbles back. Derek catches him,m and they fall back onto the sofa.

Stiles is on top of Derek now, straddling him, and it's ridiculous. He half giggles when Derek's hands smooth down the small of his back and cup his ass cheeks.

Letting the alcohol and heat of Derek's mouth soothe him, Stiles rubs the pad of his thumbs over Derek's jaw and slides his tongue passed his bottom lip a little messily. Derek returns the favour and makes a small noise that rumbles through Stiles' body.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks and tries to press their bodies closer together. Failing that, he leans to the side and pulls Derek on top of him. They adjust themselves slightly and Derek slides himself against Stiles in one slick motion that drives them both a little crazy.

Stiles feels the dampness of Derek's still wet shirt against his and shivers. He presses firm hands on the mold of Derek's chest and pushes the fabric up until it's off completely.

After that things speed up a bit; Derek's hands are all over Stiles' waist, his hips grinding slowly against Stiles' and then jutting quickly making them both moan. Stiles has his fingers in Derek's hair, tugging at it. He gnaws at Derek's lips a little, softy at first to see if Derek's into it. He definitely is.

Something like a sexy growl escapes Derek's lips and then he's pressing his hands into the couch and eating Stiles' face. His teeth draw out Stiles' bottom lip and then his tongue trails done his neck, flicking blindly at first until he finds Stiles’ sweet spot.

Stiles is free to make as much noise as he wants now, breathing heavily and moaning softly. He squeezes Derek's ass without thinking about it and thrusts upwards. He's close which is kind of a bummer, he doesn't want to stop. Not yet. Not ever.

 _“Shit, Stiles,”_ Derek hisses and Stiles let's the words sink into his skin as Derek sucks on his neck. It's messy and wet but Stiles doesn't mind. He arches his neck, practically begging Derek for more and his hips move upwards too.

But Derek can't hold on much longer. Neither of them can. He focuses all his attention on grinding against Stiles, abandoning his neck entirely and just breathing heavily in his ear instead.

Stiles is making these little noises, they get shorter and more strangled with Derek's every move. He doesn't want to come first because that's lame so he shoves his tongue into Derek's mouth, distracting himself.

Derek's breathing hitches and he claws at the cushion, his hips jut and then his body falls a little limp on top of Stiles. He pulls Stiles' hips closer to him, riding out the rest of his orgasm and maybe it's the feeling of Derek _needing_ him, needing Stiles to help him get through this, but Stiles loses it.

He comes like a shot and let's his mouth hang open against Derek's jaw until they're both just laying there.

Derek moves first, pushing off of Stiles slowly and sitting up awkwardly. Stiles' body feels heavy when he tries to move. He glances at Derek, he's wiping his stomach and Stiles feels weird watching, knowing that the sweat is there from what they just did.

He clears his throat and shuffles in his place next to Derek. “Sorry,” is all he can say.

Derek runs a hand through his messy hair, hair that Stiles made messy. He shrugs, “What are you apologising for?”

The room falls silent and Stiles remembers the movie is still playing in the background for a moment before it finishes.


	4. it's getting a lot gay

Changing his alarm tone to the Batman theme song had seemed like an awesome idea about a week ago. But now, lying on his side with his face shoved into his pillow as his brain cries out from pain, Stiles is less than pleased with the song choice.

The alarm goes off three times in the space of ten minutes and Stiles is reminded of the warm, muscular body lying next to him as Derek swings an arm over to hit the snooze button - again.

“I don't think that's helping.” Stiles says sleepily into his pillow.

“Shut. Up.”

Derek nudges him hard and groans before pushing himself up from the mattress and onto his feet. Stiles is somewhat disappointed at the sight of a fully clothed Derek but his mouth twitches at little when he notices Derek is wearing one of his tee shirts

He doesn't remember giving it to him which is probably down to the fact that Derek Hale doesn't really ask for things.

“Can I use your shower?”

Stiles stands corrected.

He pulls himself up to sit against the head of his bed and nods, waving a hand towards the door on the left. Derek pulls on the handle skeptically and Stiles guesses that foster care homes don't have onsuites, then he begins undressing and closes the door behind him. Stiles waits to hear the water running before banging his head against the palm of his hands repeatedly and cursing.

_“Fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck!”_

This is probably the most ridiculous situation Stiles has ever been in. This is somehow much worse than any one night stand he’s had, like ever. Made worse by the fact that Derek was acting like nothing even happened last night, sure nothing happened-happened but there must be some sort of post dry humping etiquette that Stiles is forgetting.

He has’t said anything either, only because they've just woken up and Derek doesn't seem like a morning person, but Stiles is bursting to say something, for either them to say anything. Stiles is pretty sure a sarcastic or suggestive comment wouldn't be appreciated by the very hot and very serious Derek but he's dying to say one. He just wants one of them to break the ice. And Derek is clearly the better man for it because Stiles is scared to death.

What if Derek doesn't even remember last night; to be honest, everything after setting up the moving was a little blurred but there's no way Stiles could forget something like _that_.

They weren't even that drunk. Were they?

He doesn't get time to remember because his thoughts are interrupted by the soft and quiet moans coming from the bathroom. Stiles tries not to concentrate, to block it out; after all what guy doesn't rub one out in the morning, it's totally normal. But he also can't help think, hope that Derek needed to get himself off after last nights…events. Stiles hopes Derek is thinking about him as he strokes his big hands over himself, soapy and wet-

_No_. No, no this was ridiculous. They have work in like hour, together. Stiles pushes the thought of Derek touching himself to the back of his mind and pries his own hand away from his crotch. He stands and curses at the obvious bulge in his boxers. He also realises he'd slept shirtless which he never does Weird. But he doesn't overthink it.

Stiles rummages through his draws for something to wear, squeezing the handles and biting down on his lips as the low sounds of Derek's edging seep through the thin walls.

_Is he serious? He knows it's my shower right. Fuck._ He thinks and presses his thighs together when he hears Derek's final moan.

A few seconds later Derek is coming out of the bathroom, towel round his waist and dripping wet from hair, jaw and chest. They exchange an awkward glance and Stiles bites down the urge to say something - anything he says would just be awful and make things a hundred times worse, he has to at least give off the illusion that he wasn't trying to memorise Derek’s moans.

Stiles showers quickly, touching himself and feeling like absolute shit afterwards. He changes, throwing on the first clean pair of jeans and a white tee he can find in the mess of his room. Derek's already downstairs, outside standing by the car on his phone. He puts the phone away as Stiles skips the step underneath his front door and makes his way to the driver's side of the car.

He watches Derek slide in, wearing his now dry tee shirt from last night, his hairs still kind of damp and sticks to his forehead a little.

“What the fuck you staring at batboy? You forget how to drive?” he says, brushing the hair out his face and shifting awkwardly in his seat.

Stiles is pretty sure he can't still hears Derek's hushed moans in his head, which is ridiculous of course but he can't block it out. He pushes the button for the radio and turns it up on purpose, ignoring Derek's wince.

They drive in silence, despite the music which does nothing to derail Stiles' perverted and extremely distracting thoughts mixed with the unsolved events of last night. When they arrive, it takes Stiles a moment to realise Derek's turned off the radio and is asking him something.

“Are you coming inside man? What's wrong you seem, I don't know, off?”

Derek's tone is gentle and Stiles is oddly comforted by it, he seems genuinely concerned. It doesn't stop his hand from shaking and tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

“Uh yeah, yeah I'm just,” Stiles glances at Derek quickly, “yesterday, I mean last night was-

“Woah, slow down Romeo.” he says a little jumpy and Stiles stiffens. “I don't know what you think happened last night.”

"Wait. What?" Now Stiles is confused.

“This last night bullshit? Is that why you're being twitchy and more of a nervous disaster than usual? Fucking relax, man. Nothing happened.”

Stiles' eyebrows knit together and he looks at Derek as if he's just even told the earth doesn't actually orbit the sun or that Daredevil isn't actually blind.

“You mean like, nothing bad happened right.”

“No. Nothing as in nothing.”

“Okay. I'm officially confused.”

Derek sighs and undoes his seatbelt before getting out of the car. Stiles follows cautiously and then with a little more panic as he watches Derek go straight for the restaurant door. Does this guy even know how conversations work?

“Derek, what the?” Stiles puts a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. He regrets it immediately when he sees the dark expression across Derek's face, then he raises even darker eyebrows and glares at the thin hand on his shoulder. Stiles draws back slowly.

He clears his throat a little before speaking up “Are you seriously going to pretend-

“Look just keep your fucking voice down Stilinski. Jesus.”

“Or what? You gonna push me again?”

“Yeah, maybe then your brain will pop back into place and you'll know to listen when I tell you something. Nothing happened last night, alright. I told you already I'm not-

“What? Gay? Well shit then, is there another word for almost fucking a guy on-

Stiles' mouth is covered by Derek's hand and he's pushed back against the hood of his car. Derek's pissed and Stiles is too, he should be scared but he's not. Just angry. At Derek and also at himself.

What did he honestly think, he and Derek would have a drunken hook up then wake up in the morning and realise they were meant to be together and last night wasn't a mistake but something they'd both always wanted. Ridiculous. He was delusional. There is no dating Derek Hale.

“I swear to God Stiles. You say any shit like that inside there and I'll rip your fucking tongue out.”

Stiles' heart is racing and it's surprisingly not because of Derek's threat. He's never been this angry before, it's the kind of anger that makes you tired so he just accepts it, accepts Derek's denial. Maybe last night wasn't actually a big deal, Derek could be the type of guy to hook up with everyone he meets. Who knows. Stiles doesn't care anymore. He tells himself he's over it. Which of course he's not but he's too angry to think about it. Instead, he pushes Derek off him, which surprises him a little, and pushes passed to get to the restaurant.

Erica and Boyd are flirting by the till and she lights up when she sees Stiles walking in. He doesn't smile, just lifts his head in acknowledgment and heads straight to the locker room to get changed.

Spending five hours with Derek would have sounded like a fate worse than death a few weeks ago, a necessary evil a few days ago and now back to a fate worse than death. Stiles huffs and puffs as he gets changed and then goes back out to join Erica at the till.

“You okay, Bambi?” she asks softly and moves her curly blonde hair to one side.

“Fantastic.” he says dryly and Erica shrugs it off as just another sarcastic comment, how is she supposed to know Stiles is dying inside.

He works on the till until lunch then they switch; Stiles prefers serving tables anyway, there's less interaction with people and he really isn't in the mood to be doing Derek any favours like selling one of his customers some weed. Derek's in the kitchen most of the day but they close later so eventually he comes out to serve tables as well, at which point Stiles’ passions towards the till increase dramatically.

They avoid each other for the most part and as the anger subsides Stiles makes it his business to flirt with the customers while Derek clears a table near by. He gets himself two numbers which is pretty decent; a girl with short black curls who's into comics as well and likes chocolate oreo milkshakes and a guy that Stiles is pretty sure is way older but he's hot so who cares. He tucks the pieces of tissue with numbers and dashes scribbled on them into his pocket and continues wiping tables. Derek is obviously avoiding him but he seems to have no problem shooting daggers at Stiles every time he shows what he considers a little too much attention to a customer.

At the end of the day Stiles sits with Erica and Boyd at one of the booths, they've finished clearing up and he doesn't feel like moving; Erica and Boyd don't seem to mind him third wheeling, too busy laughing, and Stiles almost falls out of his seat several times when Boyd actually tells a joke that's funny. When Isaac and Derek come out of the kitchen Stiles looks up quickly and then folds his arms over his chest and tries to make himself shrink in the corner of the seat. Isaac scoots in next to Erica who rolls her eyes, Boyd blushes as the movement pushes them closer together. Derek is rummaging in the lower cabinets and Stiles doesn't have to guess what he's looking for, then he walks over to where everyone's seated, “You coming?” he asks the group but when the other three don't respond, instead continuing their conversations, Stiles realises Derek's only talking to him.

“What?” he didn't mean for it to sound as rude as it does. Actually fuck it, yeah he did.

“For a smoke? You coming or what batboy?”

Something in Stiles tightens but he ignores it.

He shrugs, “Nah. Not in the mood.” then stands up and leaves without saying goodbye. It's meant to be a dramatic exit except no one's looking and Derek follows him. He's about to tell him to go away when his car keys are snatched out of his hand. Stiles turns around and Derek's smirking. How dare he.

“Funny. Now give them back.”

“Lighten up and I will,” he says, waving a joint in his other hand. Stiles isn't impressed with the pun and hates himself for almost laughing.

He steps forward and reaches for the keys but Derek draws his hand back and raises a brow.

“I'm not in the fucking mood, Derek.”

“Liar. When are you not in the mood to smoke. Quit being pissy and put the damn thing in your mouth,” he puts the blunt in front of Stiles face, smiling a little which only irritates Stiles more.

He bats Derek's hand away, gently making sure not to drop the blunt, he's angry but not a completely asshole. “I wouldn't be pissy if it wasn't for you.”

“Me?” he asks and Stiles can't believe he actually seems surprised. “What did I do?”

Really? Is he fucking joking?

“What'd you expect huh? We'd come in to work holding hands and shit.” Derek drops both his hands to his sides. “This isn't one of your wet dreams, batboy. So fucking what if we kissed or hooked up, whatever. We were drunk and, I don't know, it felt good. You don't have to be such a little bitch about it.”

Stiles definitely did not have wet dreams about Derek, at all. Not recently anyway.

“ _I'm_ being a little bitch? Are you serious? I just wanted to talk about it,”

“Well we just did. Are you happy now? Can we smoke now because this is boring.”

Stiles looks at Derek and his mind is spinning. Despite everything and how infuriating Derek is being he did admit that last night felt good; which Stiles was aware of but actually hearing Derek say it made him feel better. A part of him wants to smile and take the blunt and act like it's not a big deal but he can't. He doesn't know why, it's not like he likes Derek, not like that; sure he's really really ridiculously good looking and actually kind of nice when he wants to be but Stiles isn't even sure if he likes the idea of kissing Derek when he's sober. That said, dismissing last night as just a drunken mistake and shrugging it off seems wrong too.

“No. You're an asshole.” he says eventually and Derek gives him a look that reads that's not the answer he was expecting.

Stiles doesn't know what he's doing other than possibly overreacting, then he feels Derek's warm hand on his and it sends a shiver through this body. He turns a little and Derek's shoulders are lower, slumped and his expression is softer. He moves towards Stiles, still holding his hand and looks back quickly, probably checking to see if anyone's looking, then leans in and kisses him chastely.

Stiles is smiling immediately.

Yes. Yes he does like the idea of Derek kissing him when he's sober. Even if it is briefly. He's not opposed to anything that involves Derek's lips and his own.

“Quit smiling like that.” Derek says, rolling his eyes and stepping back a bit and letting his hand fall out of Stiles’. “Now you gonna drive me home or what?”

***

The car is parked outside Derek's house and both boys are sitting quietly, Stiles goes to say something but Derek beats him to it.

“You wanna come inside?” Stiles is becoming more familiar with Derek's softer tone but it still does things to his stomach.

They both climb out the car, meet each other at the front of it and walk together to Derek's front door.

“Look I'm not gonna blow you or anything, I just don't like smoking by myself. It's depressing.”

“I didn't think you would,” Stiles says a little startled then the corner of lips curls, “But now that you've brought it up…” he wiggles his brows suggestively and Derek scowls and pushes him a little.

They sit on the balcony outside of Derek's room, windows closed because he's not allowed to smoke and for a badass Derek seems pretty adamant not to piss of his foster parents. Stiles sits against the wall with Derek opposite, he starts off the blunt as per and it does feel pretty good.

“You and Cora are pretty close right?” Stiles says after they've rotated a while and he's a little baked.

“Yup.” he says with smoke pouring out of his lips. “She's the best, I probably wouldn't be…” he trails off, shaking his head a little and passes the blunt back to Stiles who worries at what the end of the sentence might have been. “She got us into this place, the foster home. They didn't want to place us together, most siblings don't, you know, but we're lucky. I'm lucky.”

“How'd she do it? By beating the shit out of the social worker?” Stiles says doing his best to lighten the mood; the topic isn't necessarily negative but Stiles can  tell theres a lot Derek isn't saying and the he too was trying to make light of a pretty bleak situation.

“Pretty much.” he smirks a little and Stiles' chest feels lighter. “It's corny but she's the best thing that's happened to me since everything turned to shit and she probably deserves better than me.”

There's a lot Stiles wants to say; that being selfless and caring and strong, which Derek is, cancels out the few times he's a bit of an asshole. He wants to say it but doesn't know if it's his place, then he feels Derek's lips overlapping his and a warm hand on the base of his neck and he's pretty sure he did say it. And he's glad.

Stiles’ breathing hitches a little as Derek draws back and releases creamy white smoke from his lips. He admires the arch of Derek's throat as he tilts his head back and smiles lazily.

“We should definitely shotgun like that all the time,” he says and traces a finger down the outline of Derek's throat, humming to himself.

They remain that close for the rest of their smoke break and when they get up to climb back through the window Stiles can't resist the urge to lightly slap Derek's ass, which earns him and smirk and nudge. Stiles stumbles in with a lot less skill than Derek and ends up by the door.

“So,” he starts slowly, hoping Derek will ask him to stay.

“Fuck outta here batboy,”

“Oh come on, you weren't really serious about that blow job were you?”

He smirks and Derek half lunges at him with a raised fist which Stiles flinches at and laughs. “I'm kidding, don't worry. I'll go.” he walks over to Derek's bed to pick up his jacket, Derek's next the wardrobe now getting undressed. Stiles bets he sleeps naked and is more than a little upset he can't stick around to find out. Derek catches Stiles staring as he steps out of his jeans and half smirks to himself.

“Your body is ridiculous.” Stiles blurts aloud accidentally.

He should be embarrassed but at this point he doesn't care. He steps forwards and presses his lips against Derek's who's a little startled but gets into it quite quickly. It's meant to be a kiss goodbye but Stiles goes for broke. Derek slides a hand around Stiles' neck, his thumb rubs soothingly over the skin. The kiss makes Stiles sleepy, like he's ready to pass out, to melt into Derek, then he pulls him closer by the waistband of his boxers and Derek makes like this low sort of growl and Stiles is awake again. _Fuck_ does it feel good. Stiles is determined to take things further so he envelopes the kiss and slides his tongue passed Derek's bottom lip, in an attempt to get things going in a similar direction as last night.

Derek's into it. His hands find a new resting place at Stiles sides and he pokes his thumbs inside his shirt. For a guy as aggressively hot as Derek, he's pretty gentle with Stiles.

Stiles is pretty high, they both are, but right now every time Derek's touches or strokes him it feels like fucking heaven. It tickles a little and Stiles mouth hangs open in a weak smile until Derek draws him back into the kiss. Derek's urgency makes Stiles desperate so he slides both his hands into Derek's boxers, curving over his ass and squeezing a little. It's perfect; the kiss, Derek's tight little ass, everything.

A soft moan escapes Derek's lips as he lets himself fall back a little against the dresser. Stiles drags his lips across Derek's jaw, scratching himself against his stubble until he finds a dip in Derek's neck to suck on. His eyes flicker open and he looks up to watch Derek through his eyelashes.

He admits it. Derek is beautiful.

Stepping back a little, Stiles slides his hands round to Derek's stomach and presses on it gently. He feels Derek take in a sharp breath and his own stomach tightens at thought of what he wants to do to him.

As far as unbelievable situations go, Stiles slipping his hand into the front of Derek's boxers is listed at the top. The  _most ridiculous_ and _most amazing_ situation of Stiles' life so far, probably.

Derek's sucks in a breath when he feels Stiles' hands move against his semi hard-on. His hands reach up and hold onto Stiles shoulders. There's a short moment where their eyes meet and then nothing but sharp breathes and soft moans as Derek feels as if he's about to lose his mind. Stiles is turning his body a little so it's not such an awkward angle and Derek is gripping helplessly at the short ends of Stiles’ hair. Derek makes a few weak attempts to reconnect their kiss but Stiles is a determined guy and his strokes on Derek's dick make it almost impossible to concentrate on anything but how good it feels.

“Oh fuck, oh god” Derek breathes and Stiles can't help but smirk.

His whole body tightens which probably means he's close.

“Am I doing as good as you in my shower today?"

Derek's eyes widen and his face flushes a deeper shade of red, he doesn't say anything though just nods and bites his lip.   
Stiles is satisfied with the response. He leans forward to kiss Derek, teasing until the other boy's mouth hangs open then he tightens his fist around Derek's length and takes a long pull. Derek's hips jut madly and then it's game over, he's coming right into Stiles hand and a little on his shirt but Stiles doesn't mind. When Derek crashes their lips together again, Stiles half hopes he needed to do it to stop himself from screaming.

Stiles has given handjobs before, to himself obviously and a few other jocks at random parties he and Scott were begrudged to go to. They'd all been mediocre compared to Derek. Most of it was probably down to how drunk he was when he'd given them but also the other guys, none of them reacted the way Derek did - probably just as drunk. Derek reacted to every squeeze and every stroke and moved his hips in time with Stiles' hand.

It felt amazing and Stiles would make sure to etch the image in his brain forever.

A few curses later and Derek's done. His head flops onto Stiles' shoulder and he lets out a final strangled breath. Stiles goes to wrap his arms around him before realising one of them is still attached to Derek's cock, wet and sticky. He looks around for a tissue but Derek's already on it. He disappears behind his bed for a second then returns, dick still half out of his boxers which gives Stiles this immature little smile, he doesn't know why.   
He wipes his hand clean with the tissue given to him and looks down at the mess on the bottom on is top.

“I think you owe me a tee shirt, buddy”

“Take it off” he says simply, shrugging and fixing himself in his boxers.

“Easy tiger,”

“Cute. But I meant, you might as well stay over.”

“ _Oh so now you want me to stay._ Well, well,” he says, walking to stand in front of Derek who rolls his eyes and tugs at the hem of Stiles’ top.

“Just shut up and get in my bed.”

***

Having the night shift means Stiles can spend the majority of his morning at Scott's house lazing about watching films and eating and talking about Derek. Stiles leaves Derek's pretty early or rather he's kicked out so his foster parents don't find out.

“Did you jump out the window and everything?” Scott asks once Stiles is done recounting last night in what is far too much detail even for best friends as close as they are; there are boundaries.

He suspects, from Scott's tone, that he doesn't believe Stiles has seen the colour of Derek's boxers much less had his hands down them.

“Dude! I'm not lying!”

“And I didn't say you were,” his smirk is punchable but Stiles holds back.

“Whatever man, sorry not everyone's love life can't be as romantic and perfect as you and Kira’s.” he says bitterly and throws a handful of toffee popcorn across the sofa then slides down his side in a sulk.

Scott laughs and catches some of it in his mouth. “It is pretty sweet. I'm throwing a party for her birthday in a week.”

Stiles forgets his mood for second, jolts upright and smacks Scott in the back of his neck.

“You're having a party here and I'm only just now finding out?” his voice is a little less threatening and a lot more shrill than planned.

“Sorry dude, we only decided it the other night.”

“Great. Well I hope you and Kira have an amazing time at your party.” he scoffs, “Does this friendship mean nothing to you? Guess I'll have to _ask_ for an invite as well, won't I?"

Scott rolls his eyes and locks his arm around Stiles' head, kissing the top of it patronisingly, “Don't be like that buddy obviously you're invited,”

Stiles struggles out of Scott's hold, half throwing himself off the sofa to finally get free.

He huffs, “Yeah, yeah”

“Dude. You can even bring a plus one, then I can see just how true this Derek Hale B.S actually is.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. It's not bullshit; he's not imagining it or making it up. Well, he's pretty sure he's not anyway. He and Derek have something. Nothing he can quite put a name on just yet but it's real. Although, a part of him does start to wonder if when Derek kicked him out this morning it was actually because his foster parents are these really strict anti-friends/fun/fucking couple, or because Derek was afraid Isaac or Boyd might see them together. It makes Stiles a little nervous but he tells himself it wasn't that. Sure, Derek had been a little skittish to begin with but after last night that was all over. Wasn't it? He had already sort of kissed Stiles in public, outside the restaurant. That counts for something right?

_Fuck sake_. Stiles really hates Scott for making him overthink this now.

He pulls out his phone and texts Derek in a rather desperate attempt to prove Scott wrong.

**> Sooooo I might hav looked up wolverine cosplay porn**

**< You didn't. Was it any gd?**

**> I don't know I didn't watch it**

**< Isn't it like ur wet dream**

**> I mean sure Hugh has a great ass but I just never went there until you put the idea in my head**

**< Hugh?**

**> Jackman. Wow, u really are clueless.**

**< Fuck you**

**> I thought we were taking things slow but, if u insist**

**< My ass is definitely better than that old guys, u wouldn't know what to do with it**

**> If there's a will there's a way ;)**

Stiles is smiling to himself now, having pushed what Scott said to the back of his mind. His thumbs hover over the keypad to type something but Derek replies

**< What's the vid called?**

_Holy shit_

**> WTF no. You can't watch it without me and aren't you at work?**

**< I'm on lunch in the bathroom and fine. I'll wait for u**

Stiles tries to contain his excitement but the idea of him and Derek jacking eachother off to cosplay porn of any kind is hilarious and ridiculous hot. He just hopes he doesn't lose his mind thinking about before they see each other later.


	5. Party in your pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a thousand years :)))) um this is 90% filth 10% soft, following recent events i might be a bottom!stiles believer...  
> enjoy?? xxx
> 
>  
> 
> also sorry if it's shorter than the others

* * *

"This bed is fucking awesome,” Stiles says, grinning lazily from ear to ear. Derek's lying next to him, blunt hanging out the corner of his mouth. He stretches out both his arms like a cat, his black top lifts a little exposing the hint of a toned stomach. It's a body Stiles is fairly familiar with but it still makes his body hum, a little.

“I bet this is a good bed to fuck in,” he says casually and Stiles raises an eyebrow, a little more shocked than he would be if they weren't so high.

They’re in Scott’s bedroom, at Kira's birthday party, trying to escape the hateful lacrosse team and all those other watchful eyes. Stiles had been surprised when Derek agreed to come, more so when he said Cora and Isaac would be going with him. They were probably downstairs somewhere glaring at people.

Seeing Cora was weird, Stiles was almost certain that when she pulled him away for a chat, that she was going to kick his ass, as further threat not to out her. But she didn't, thankfully, the conversation was quite the opposite. Apparently Cora was comfortable with her sexuality and couldn't give a shit if people knew who she was and wasn't fucking. Stiles had already started his chain of nervous drinking and the words, “Try telling Derek that,” almost slipped out before he stopped himself, master of self control that he is.

Derek and him were still enjoying their secret and rare time together; in Stiles’ jeep after work, on Derek's balcony and that one incident in the locker room wherein Derek was very eager to get his hands down Stiles’ pants. There were no complaints on Stiles’ end, a few moans and a lot of mess, but no complaints.

Things were good, the sneaking around was kind of exciting and if keeping things a secret meant a guaranteed hand job or heated makeout session then Stiles was in no position to object.

They'd been downstairs for all of an hour, Derek had refused to dance but didn't mind getting a few drinks and standing against the wall in the kitchen, with Stiles pointedly close, exchanging suggestive looks and smirks that could probably be read as obvious flirting from across the room.

The buzz was kicking in and Stiles was beginning to get a little careless, or Derek was starting to get a lot paranoid, so they moved into the garden to split the draw Derek had brought over. They were interrupted several times by Isaac and Scott and Kira, and a trio of hot girls that to Stiles discomfort chose to hit on Derek.

Stiles guessed this sort of thing happened to Derek a lot, he is ridiculously good looking. When the girls came over, laughing at the bad jokes Derek made and quite literally clinging onto his arm, which Stiles didn't blame them for his arms were amazing, he shook his head and glared over the top of his cup.  
It was okay for a while, he figured he'd just have to stomach it and that eventually the girls would see what a poor conversationalist Derek is and leave. It wasn't a big deal that he was flirting back, Stiles was totally okay with it, he's not some possessive/ jealous boyfriend, he and Derek are _just friends who occasionally swap spit._

Stiles nearly spits his drink out when he sees one of the girls, tall with brunette hair and a square jaw, lean in and shot gun smoke from Derek's slightly parted lips. He has to blink several times to check if what he's seeing is real. He knew Derek was an asshole, he likes him in spite of it, but this was just ridiculous and inconsiderate. _Stiles was right there, what the fuck did he think he was doing?_

It's immature but he storms off, stopping only to grab another drink, then he feels Derek's hand on his shoulder and turns around to glare at him but his eyes are pleading and Stiles is too baked to argue. That's how they end up upstairs, it's more or less both of their ideas but Stiles figures if they stay away from the party he can have Derek all to himself. It's ironic really, how much he hates sneaking around but how this is the only way to be with Derek.

“Are you hitting on me Derek?” Stiles says, leaning up on his elbows. Derek rolls his eyes and nudges him in the chest.

“I'm just saying its a nice bed, and your friend probably has had sex in it. Not everything's about you batboy,”

“First of all, most things are in fact about _moi_. And b) Scott and Kira have not had sex in this bed. They've only been going out a few weeks.”

Derek pushes himself off the mattress and stands facing Stiles, “So?” he says and shrugs. Stiles sits upwards so his legs are on either side of Derek and he pinches the blunt out of his mouth to take a hit. “Times got nothing to do with it, if they wanna fuck they'll fuck,” he continues.

Blowing a line of smoke out the corner of his mouth, Stiles knits his eyebrows together and looks at Derek for a moment then passes him back the blunt and shakes his head.

“Your logic is undeniable, Der.” he says a little distantly with a small grin then strokes a finger along the hem of Derek's jeans, when he doesn't protest and instead throw his head back to blow smoke up towards the ceiling, Stiles takes the initiative and unbuckle his belt, remembering why they came up here in the first place, for sexy time.

“Do you want the last bit?”

Stiles shakes his head, concentrating unnecessarily hard on getting Derek's pants off only to be pulled up by firm hands and kissed by full, smoke-dry lips. He's a little startled at first but kissing Derek is always the best so he allows himself to get lost in it, letting Derek have full control, arching his neck so his head falls into Derek's cradling hand. Then a surge of something, excitement or anxiety maybe, overwhelms him.

“So would _you_ fuck me?” the words don't taste that foreign in his mouth but he can tell by the expression on Derek's face that they're strange.

“Jesus, I'm not _that_ drunk,” Derek says after a moment, his eyebrows lower and a smirk crawls along his face.

Stiles’ eager hands are still at Derek's belt, he slips it off. “That's got nothing to do with it, if we wanna fuck we should fuck. I mean, we've only been doing whatever it is that we're doing for a few weeks but.. _I want to_ ,”

Derek's expression is blank, he’s frowning a little but Stiles is pretty sure that's just a default at this point. There's a brief pause, the muffled music from downstairs becomes a little clearer, giving Stiles’ something to focus on other than how long it's taking Derek to reply. If he wasn't so high it might have bothered him, might have caused him to panic or say something (even more) stupid. But no, nothing. He just carries on dragging steady fingers on the waistband of Derek's jeans.

“What do you mean, whatever it is that we're doing?”

Derek's voice is low, almost like a whisper, it's strange and sends a bit of shiver through Stiles’ already buzzing body.

“Whatever this is, us, getting off with each other occasionally, you know.”

“We’re just, hanging out.” he says, leaving Stiles’ to search for any hints in his tone or expression that might suggest they're doing a little bit more than just, _hanging out_. Nada.

“Well I don't know about you but, I don't touch my other friends dicks,” he looks down at the hand, Derek’s, placed quite obviously on his semi hard crotch. He cocks an accusing brow and Derek chuckles lowly but he isn't embarrassed, pushes Stiles back onto the bed.

“So what, you want me to call you my boyfriend or some shit like that?” Dereks hovering over Stiles, hands pressed into the mattress as his head ducks lower to whisper the words over Stiles’ lips.

His heart catches in his throat but Stiles’ plays it off with a laugh and rolls his eyes. Boyfriend? Hell fucking yes. But Derek's probably just teasing, definitely, just trying to get Stiles all hot and bothered because he enjoys watching him suffer. He flips them over so it’s Derek pinned underneath him.

“Some shit like that. Or just you know, don’t be ashamed of me.” he leans in for a kiss, to lighten the mood but Derek stops him with a gentle hand on his chest

“I’m not.” Dereks frowning and for a second he seems serious and Stiles smiles fondly. He never actually believed that Derek was ashamed, he understood that coming out and having everyone know your business was a big deal, especially for someone as secretive as Derek. But it didn’t hurt to hear it once in awhile.

His lips are wet by Derek’s tongue as he pulls Stiles down toward him and kisses him. Its deep, Derek's hands are on either side of Stiles’ face, guiding his head and stroking soft thumbs over the outline of his jaw. Stiles wants nothing more than to stay like this forever, under Dereks control, its warm and makes him feel safe. But another part of him wants to rip his clothes off and fuck him right now; he doesn’t care that it's Scott's room or that there is a house full of people downstairs who could burst in at any time, they would be blessed to see just how good Stiles would give it to Derek. But he suppresses the urge when Derek pulls away to breathe,

“I just like it being just us, for now. I know you hate it but…” he trails off and Stiles realsies this is only the second time he's ever seen Derek look guilty. The first had been when he was telling him about Cora and not talking about their parents.

“I don't hate it right now,” he says softly and looks at him for a moment before kissing his jaw sweetly, then his chin, neck, chest before finally pulling off his shirt.

Dereks smiles lazily and puts his hands behind his head, shuffling and lifting his hips so Stiles can take off his pants. Then he's climbing back up Derek's legs, stroking them and smiling to himself at how much he actually doesn't mind that they’re hairy.

His hand moves over Derek’s clothed dick and he grins when he feels it twitch eagerly. Amused, he starts rubbing his palm along Derek’s growing boner, he hums a little to himself which makes Derek moan. As great as it feels to get lost in Derek's touch, making him feel good is way more fucking awesome. He pulls Derek out of his boxers and it's only then that he realises how close his face is to Derek's dick, it seems only fitting to have some fun with it. Without hesitating, as if this had been the plan all along, Stiles puts Derek in his mouth and takes a long slow suck.

Hes given a fair amount of blowjobs before. No complaints. But Derek's pretty big and they're both still quite baked so Stiles is wary of how good of a bj this will be. Never the quitter, Stiles positions himself better, one leg swung over Derek's and he finds himself _rolling his hips against Derek's thigh like a fucking dog._ Its ridiculous but it feels pretty good.

He’s not too focused on getting himself off, Derek’s not selfish and Stiles can only imagine what he's going to do to him after this. He lowers his head to get more of Derek’s dick inside his mouth, he uses his tongue at the tip and hums when he tastes sweet pre come. Curious, he looks up and watches Derek through thick eyelashes, he's watching Stiles with his mouth open, letting sharp breaths and shaky moans escape. The eye contact is kind of intense and usually would throw Stiles' game off but Derek's _really_ looking at him and it's fucking hot. He starts to get sloppy, bobbing at an even pace but with plenty of spit and come all around his now swollen lips. He chokes twice but it feels kinda good and Derek claws at the sheets when Stiles takes him further down his throat. His hips start moving in opposite time to Stiles' sucking and it almost feels like he's face fucking him, it's not until Derek's fingers knot in Stiles' hair as he holds his head still that he's actually sure it's happening. Stiles stays as still as possible, leaving his mouth open but tight around Derek's dick so he fuck up into his mouth.

 _“Shit, Stiles,”_ Derek moans, it's the first time he manages to get Stiles’ full name out of his mouth. He’s shaking a little and his thrusts are starting to get erratic, he's gonna come any second and Stiles is oddly excited by the idea. He braces himself to swallow and then licks his lips and Derek's dick clean.

 _“Fuck,”_ Derek breaths, his hand falls from Stiles hair and his whole body deflates. Stiles moves to straddle him and spreads his fingers over Derek's chest, tracing smooth skin. “That... was…” Derek's starts breathlessly, his fingers stroke over Stiles hips in small circles. It feels nice, soothing.

“You're welcome,” he says with a small smirk and stretches his hands up Derek's chest to his shoulders before leaning down to kiss him sweetly. The moments  quiet and intimate and Stiles wants to sit in it for a while, a long while.

They rarely get to be like this, it's always quick or dirty which is obviously hot as fuck but this is also really nice.

Stiles breaks the kiss to rest his head under Derek's chin, listening to his heartbeat, still a little fast. He waits for it to return to a steady, even pace before speaking.

“So _now_ will you fuck me?” It's a joke, harmless. He feels the rumble in Derek's chest as he laughs,

“Nah, but if you blow me again maybe I'll think about it.” he says, “I'm serious, if you had done that as soon as we met maybe I wouldn’t have chased you after school for a week.”

He looks up and sees the smirk on Derek's face and rolls his eyes. Stiles sits up, feeling hot and takes off his tshirt. Derek hooks a finger in his trousers and raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. Fair enough, Stiles thinks, he shouldn't be the only one not in just his briefs. He undresses quickly and takes a second to the lock the door, then climbs back onto Derek's lap. He feels hands on his ass immediately and rolls his eyes. He's not really into _butt stuff_ but Derek has nice big hands so he lets him fool around for a bit. It's only when he feels the brush of Derek's finger between his cheeks that things start to go downhill.

Derek laughs when Stiles flinches. “What's wrong?” he asks, moving his hands to the dip under Stiles’ ass.

“Nothing, I'm just not really into your finger being so close to my hole, man.”

“Why? Jesus, don't be so sensitive batboy, have you even tried it before?”

“Tried _what_?” Stiles makes a slightly disgusted expression which seems to only amuse Derek some more. “Listen, Biceps, if anyone's going to be having things up their ass it's you. If you would be so lucky.”

Derek grins and it puts Stiles a little on edge. “You might like it.” he says simply and Stiles can't believe it. A week ago he couldn't even get Derek to kiss him and now he wants to finger his asshole. Derek has a great ass that Stiles would much rather play with, in fact he's certain anyone would rather play with Derek's ass than Stiles’.

  
“You’re joking right?” is all he says but Derek shrugs.

“Are you scared? It doesn't hurt for long, and after it feels fucking awesome.” Derek's eyes light up a little and he smiles and in that moment Stiles pictures sliding into him while he makes a similar expression and yeah, _that_ would feel fucking awesome. He might be high, really high but definitely not high enough for what Derek is suggesting.

“The weed must be hitting you all wrong. I'm not scared either I just- no. Why don't I do it to you instead?”

“I don't think I can come again without causing my dick serious pain.”

Stiles smiles, pretty smug and pleased with himself. Derek flips them over and he blinks slowly, the buzz is fading, for Stiles too, and they're both going to get tired real soon which sucks because Stiles really wants to come. Leaning down to kiss him, Derek slips a hand in Stiles' briefs and palms him dick. Stiles is pretty hard and the grip alone would probably be enough to get him off but he tries to hold on.

Derek shuffles on top of him and scoots down his body a little so he can pull Stiles briefs off completely. This is the most naked they've been in front of each other and Stiles swallows hard.

Derek spreads Stiles’ legs and licks his lips before starting to stroke his dick slowly. Stiles is in love with Derek's hands, they're big and soft and wet from spit. Stiles tries to stay as still as possible, knowing that if he moves too much he'll come embarrassingly quickly. Derek doesn't give any warning when he licks the the pre come clean from Stiles’ tip and Stiles’ efforts to stay still end there. He bucks his hips into Derek's hand and bites down on his lip, probably too hard. Derek's mouth still lingers close to Stiles dick and he sucks the tip occasionally just to drive Stiles crazy. His hand speeds up and Stiles isn't sure how long he can hold on for. He's close, dick twitching, thighs clenching from the need to just let go, then he feels Derek's fingers curl under him and flick against his hole, only he doesn't flinch this time. It feels… good?

He doesn't want to say the words aloud, so instead just pushes his ass against the finger, half embarrassed. Derek smirks but obliges. Stiles closes his eyes as Derek's finger, wet from sweat or spit or come or all three, slides between his cheeks and rubs over his hole, which betrays him by… opening? This is ridiculous. It shouldn't feel this good to have a guys finger in your ass. But it does.

"Fuck that feels so good," he hates himself for admitting it  

“I told you you'd like it,” Derek whispers over his lips, hovering over his body now. He leaves sweet kisses on Stiles' neck while his hand and fingers do terrible things to his dick and ass.

“I...hate you,” Stiles manages in between moans. He's overwhelmed, unsure whether to thrust upwards into Derek's hand or push down and get his ass filled up. It's absolutely ridiculous.

He comes hard and it kind of hurts but in the best way possible. Hes twitching for like five minutes while Derek tries to swallow all of his come, only then does he take his finger out of Stiles, but it doesn't matter, he's converted now. Getting finger fucked has opened a whole new world for him and they're definitely going to do that again, boyfriend title or not, Stiles' ass is now property of Derek Hale.

 


	6. Going soft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back and at it again, sorry the updates are so slow i'm trying

Stiles wakes up alone and shivers before rolling over into the empty space where Derek was - should be. He sits up eventually and his eyes scan the room for his clothes, noticing that Derek's aren't there a small wave of panic rushes over him. Did he leave? Stiles tries not to overreact, he probably just went downstairs to eat. Oh shit. He realises. Downstairs. Scott, Kira and god knows who else.

He pulls on his clothes quickly, feeling particularly shameful as he slides into his jeans, they'd been the first thing to come off last night during he and Dereks… night.

Stiles runs to the bathroom to piss and splash water over his face then moves just as quickly down the stairs, heading to the kitchen where Kira and Scott most likely are.

Scott's sat on top of one of the counters, slightly leaned back with a grin on his face and mug in hand. Kira's standing in front doing what looks like yoga and Stiles rolls his eyes at the both of them.

“Morning kids,” he says as casually as he can, trying to pretend he isn't searching frantically for Derek.

Kira stands up, slightly red faced and flips her hair to the side to smile widely at Stiles, Scott is still looking at her but he says morning as well.

Stiles steps further into the kitchen and walks to one of the familiar cupboards he knows is hiding nutella and the strong coffee. He peaks his head round the glass doors and scans the garden and his heart does something between a flutter and a freaking cartwheel.

Derek's outside, only half dressed in his jeans from last night and a zip-up hoodie that Stiles recognises far too well. It's his. He smirks and gazes at the toned chest under the hoodie, smooth but slightly goosebumped from the cold. He’s turned to the side, arms folded and cigarette between his fingers. he's barefoot too and it's all too domestic and utterly sexy for Stiles to fully handle.

“I thought he'd be scarier” Stiles hears Kira say and is woken from his stare.

“Nah I knew he was a softie. He made us breakfast if you can believe it.” Scott continues, “And to think he was going to kill you and me a while back.” a smile crawls along his face and Stiles looks at his friend waiting for some filthy insinuation.

“Wonder what you did to make him change his tune…” Scott finishes and winks at Stiles, who rolls his eyes and throws a spoon at him. Kira leans across Scott and catches the flying cutlery expertly. Stiles smiles. He hates them.

Stiles finishes making his coffee, not wanting to seem too eager to go out and see Derek. He also takes the jar of nutella and tucks it under his arm before sliding open the glass doors with his hips. Derek turns his head slowly and raises an eyebrow, Stiles takes that as all the greeting he is going to get.

“So apparently I missed quite the breakfast.” He says, passing Derek the hot coffee to hold while he struggles to open the nutella jar. Yes, he is going to eat it by itself. “You never do anything nice for me,” he teases. Once the jar is open, he scoops some out with a spoon - he would’ve used his fingers but manners blah blah - and puts it in his mouth.

“You're disgusting.” Derek says, half smiling. He takes another drag of his cigarette before throwing it over the fence. Stiles is a little surprised he doesn't just put it out on the grass. Maybe he's trying the whole manners thing as well.

“Thank you.” he says, licking the spoon and then taking another scoop. This is his jar now, as Scott would say. They stand together for a while, Derek takes a sip of Stiles coffee without really noticing but then shrugs and they end up sharing it. Stiles is pretty content with his nutella anyway, it's nasty and the smooth, warm, sweetness sliding down his throat reminds him of last night. He starts sucking on the spoon deliberately and Derek watches with dark eyes, shuffling where he stands, grip tightening around the mug.

“You...got crap on you face.” Derek breathes and Stiles is turned on by how much this is affecting Derek. Derek, who a few weeks ago couldn't care less that Stiles was a living breathing human being.

Stiles raises both his eyebrows dumbly and goes to wipe around his mouth, of which the chocolate covered spoon is still hanging out of. Derek just stares as Stiles purposely misses where he knows the chocolate is. Then he looks around through the glass doors, Scott and Kira are laughing about something, backs turned away. Derek leans in and drags a warm thumb down the corner of Stiles’s lips and then brings it into his mouth to suck clean.

Stiles makes an involuntary noise that can be mistaken for nothing other than a moan and Derek smirks, clearly pleased with himself.

“Fuck you.” Stiles says under his breath, trying his best to scowl at Derek.

“If you're lucky.” he bites back and Stiles’ eyes widen. Derek's not usually this bold when he's sober but apparently last night's rather heated… events have left both boys more filthy. “So,” Derek's starts again, barely giving Stiles a chance to think of a comeback. He doesn't have one. “You going to drive me home or what? We have to change for work.” Derek finishes the last of the coffee then disappears inside without waiting for Stiles to answer, again. Stiles doesn't know why but he's smiling like an idiot.

  
“What the fuck are you smiling at now, batboy?”

Stiles pulls the jeep up to the side of Derek’s road, parks and turns off the engine. He sits patiently and waits to hear the flick of Derek's lighter, staring at him all the while. Eventually Derek turns, passes Stiles the lighter, admitting defeat, and glares.

Stiles smiles, ignoring his harsh tone and sparks up the blunt between Derek's pink lips and continues to watch him. It's probably creepy but he can't get enough of this guys face.

After two puffs Derek passes it over, “It's not very good, I had to mix it. We smoked most of it yesterday,” he says, lips and voice still laced with smoke. Stiles takes a hit and his nose wrinkles a little. It really isn't good. He only takes one drag, doesn't hold it in for very long then passes it back to Derek who rolls his eyes at Stiles’ disgust.

“So you coming up?” he asks and nods towards his house. This makes Stiles grin with want.

“What for?” he enjoys playing stupid, it's not something he's tried with Derek but in the past it's been a good way to get guys to admit they want Stiles to fuck them. And other then when it's actually happening, it's almost impossible to know what Derek wants. But that's to expected from a Class A closet case.

“Cute. But I'm not going to spell it out for you.”

“Well I'm good then. My shifts in the evening and I didn't sleep much last night so I should probably go home.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you Stilinski. Get out the car and come inside, you idiot,” he says, with a halfhearted bite to his words which makes Stiles smile fondly.

He really is going soft for Derek Hale. He's never let a guy - or girl - play with his ass before last night and now it's like everything Derek does is just perfect to Stiles.

Derek climbs out of the jeep and flicks the blunt to the floor, there's a lot left but neither of them could stomach it, hopefully Derek has something stronger inside.

  
“Can I use your shower?” Stiles asks as he walks into Derek's room, decorated in familiar mess. He notices a large backpack on his bed, money half spilled out of it. Derek reaches for it quickly as they enter and hisses.

“That fucking idiot,” he spits lowly and Stiles guesses the insult isn't meant for him. Derek spins around, face hard and grabs the bat - Stiles’ bat - behind Stiles, backpack hanging off his other hand, and gives Stiles a softer look before speaking.

“I'll be right back.” his voice is strained but he's doing his best to not take his new frustration out on Stiles, not that he would mind.

Derek moves around Stiles and out the door before he can respond. He's curious and wants to follow but that would probably piss off Derek. He's also more curious about the fact Derek has left the door wide open. Before, when Stiles would come over for smoke breaks and/or a hook up, he was only ever allowed on the balcony and Derek would lock the door shut so no one could walk in on them.

It probably doesn’t mean what Stiles thought it did - that Derek didn't care if people caught them, even though they weren't actually doing anything yet, Derek was maybe starting to treat Stiles like a person not a secret fuck toy you keep locked away in your room - he was probably just too pissed off to remember to close the door.

Stiles hears shouting and a lot of cursing from across the hallway, he leans his head around the door, fingers crossed hoping it's Isaac that Derek's going berserk on. But he can only see the back of Derek, standing in a doorway and yelling. He throws the backpack inside and Stiles thinks he hears Isaac's voice apologise, then Derek turns away and stalks back over in Stiles’ direction.

“You okay?” he asks carefully once Derek has put the bat down.

“Who leaves a bag of drug money in the middle of a fucking bed?” Derek’s voice is tight and low almost like a growl, Stiles recognises it from a more… intense time and it makes him stiffen a little. “And my bed as well? Asshole. As if I'm not in enough shit as it is.” Derek's pacing slows and then stops suddenly in front of Stiles and looks up, as if remembering he's there and softens his face. “Sorry,” he says shaking his head and Stiles’ eyes widen in surprise. Sorry?

“It's cool. But for my own selfish pleasure, you are mad at Isaac right?”

Derek gives him a look.

“Yes!” Stiles grins and pumps a fist in the air. “I knew you hated that lil bastard as much as me.”

“I don't hate you.” Derek says, his expression is soft and his eyes lock with Stiles’.

“Um, that's not what I meant but it's good to know.”

Derek… blushes? And it's almost too much for Stiles. Who is this guy? He's quickly reminded when Derek punches him playfully in the stomach, a little too hard.

“Shower.” He says, remembering Stiles’ earlier question. Again, Stiles waist for the fuck no, that always followed when Stiles would ask to even use the toilet - Derek would make him pee over the balcony in the garden just so no one would see him walking through the house. But it doesn’t come. Instead he ducks to the side and pulls a towel out of his draw and shoves it against Stiles’ chest.

Stiles follows blindly to the bathroom and watches as if from far away as Derek explains how the shower works,

“...the water might turn cold if Erica starts doing laundry but other than that your ass should be fine.”

“You would know,” Stiles teases and Derek rolls his eyes softly.

“Don’t drown, little mermaid.”

Stiles shakes his head, he's about to say that mermaids can't drown but doesn't think Derek would be much interested. He has a better idea. He steps back as Derek moves to leave and pulls the door shut behind him, closing them both into the small space of the bathroom.

“What do you think you're doing, batboy?”

Stiles shrugs and smirks when he hears the lock click. Derek raises an eyebrow.

“Could you run over how the shower works one more time?” Stiles says slowly and steps forward closing the space between him and Derek.

“You weren't fucking listening?” Derek half barks, with a small smirk on his face. Stiles guesses he knows what he's up to.

“You were being so nice to me it was hard to concentrate.”

“You're a real smartass you know that, batboy?” Derek tugs on the belt in Stiles jeans and then walks his fingers along the buckle teasingly.

Stiles is a little distracted, he knots a fist in Derek's - his - hoodie and pulls him forward, “Enough with my ass already, god you're obsessed.”

And with that Derek grunts and then he's all over Stiles, hands twisted in his hair, tugging off his clothes and then he's practically carrying him into the shower. It's great and Stiles is almost overwhelmed with how much Derek is taking control. He's not resisting or hesitant that someone might walk in on them.

Stiles fumbles for the waist of Derek's tracksuit bottoms and gets his hands on Derek's ass, pulling him closer to him against the cold shower wall. Derek only breaks their messy kiss to remove his hoodie then he and Stiles are a tangled mess once again, pressed against the wall, he turns of the water and Stiles yelps.

Derek doesn't shush him, just chuckles lowly and pulls the curtain to shield them. He lifts Stiles arms over his head and presses the full length of his hard body against Stiles, only a thin line of water seperating them.

Stiles hooks a leg around Derek's and pushes down his briefs with his foot, it's kinda hot and he's impressed by himself. Derek's lips burn his skin, he bites and sucks like he's been craving the taste of Stiles' tongue for years. It's fucking ridiculous and Stiles doesn't know what to do.

He's usually the one in control, not this passionately, he usually just has to tease a little, annoying Derek into giving into his sexual frustration.

But Derek is determined, kissing Stiles like he's hungry and holding him in place against the wall, trapping him.

It's sort of rough but Stiles does not mind. _At all_. He makes a whimper noise when Derek's lips drag across his jaw and fall to his neck. Derek frees his wrists and Stiles is able to rake his hands through Derek's thick and wet hair. He tugs at it, hard, and Derek's head falls back a little and it's Stiles' turn to suck on Derek's wet skin.

Derek's hands, no longer wrapped around Stiles wrists, are on his dick, teasing the head with a delicate thumb. Stiles’ mouth hangs open against Derek's throat, heavy uneven breaths brush against his wet skin. He moves his hips in time with Derek's strokes along his dick, it feels too good and he has to bite his lip to stop from being to loud. But it's no use, Derek has no intention of letting Stiles live. He slides his his hand off of Stiles and then his own, equally hard, dick is grinding over Stiles’.

It's messy and quick and so good that Stiles feels his entire body tense and relax with pleasure. Derek has teeth dug into Stiles shoulder, he watches water fall over Derek's head, down his neck and arms and holds onto his broad shoulders.

Derek starts to get desperate, and loud. He pulls Stiles' hips off the wall and grinds himself against him harder and more urgently, clearly close to coming. Stiles' wet ass slips out of Derek's grip and this frustrates him a lot. Stiles, problem solver that he is, lifts one of Derek's beautifuly thick thighs against his hip and ruts his hips.

“Oh fuck” Derek hisses loudly and Stiles can't help but giggle.

With all the water it's hard to tell when Derek comes but he presses burning lips to Stiles’ mouth and groans his name before slumping his shoulders, and eventually his whole body, in Stiles' arms. It's weird for a moment, holding onto this much bigger guy who could probably lift Stiles with one arm. But it's also kind of perfect. Stiles comes silently, not breaking the messy kiss and instead, turning it into something a little sweeter.

Derek hums and let's his leg fall back by Stiles’ then he pulls away and examines the damage, most of it washed away in the bath.

He gives a look that Stiles is all too familiar with, one that usually follows their hook ups, as if to say _Yeah we got each off and what?_ Stiles never really knows what to do with that look, he'd normally challenge it with some sarcy comment but there's something about what they just did that tells Stiles it won't be necessary.

Derek ducks out of Stiles’ gaze for a second to turn off the water then he steps out of the bath, dripping water from the ends of his hair. Stiles follows, waiting for Derek to say something - anything. He doesn't. But he does throw a towel around Stiles head and ruffle the wet hair underneath. Stiles smiles widely under the towel. They dry each other in a mostly comfortable silence and wrestle their way back to Derek's room to change.

~~

A few days later Derek and Stiles’ shifts are back in sync, at Stiles’ request. It was almost painful having to leave work just as Derek was getting in or visa versa. Stiles isn't confident enough to just show up at Derek's house, yet, so their hookups usually take place when Stiles drops Derek home.

Stiles has been giving Derek The Look all day as they pass each other in the kitchen, it's been a whole 3 days since their happy shower and Stiles is _craving_. As if Derek knows, which wouldn't be surprising Stiles isn't being very discreet, he keeps smirking and winking and wiping grease and sweat from his forehead with the ends of his t-shirt. Teasing.

Stiles hates himself for giving Derek this much of a hold over him.

When the last customer leaves, Stiles races to the locker room and strips out of his uniform. Boyd and Derek walk in after a while and Stiles flushes red though he's not sure why. Boyd grabs his and Erica’s things before patting Derek on the back and leaving. He doesn't say goodbye to Stiles but this morning he had nodded at him so they're making progress.

Derek continues to get changed out of his sweaty chefs clothes and Stiles looks at him as if he's doing something terribly wrong. He's been waiting all day to get his hands and mouth all over Derek, and would be lying if he said he didn't miss the butt stuff, and Derek has the audacity to just stroll into the changing room unphased and unbothered? Without turning his head Derek smiles, as if he's able to feel Stiles’ frustration and find it amusing.

Stiles glances back at the door before stalking over to Derek, standing behind him and bracketing his arms around his waist. Derek's got half his shirt off and Stiles feels obligated to help him. He leans over to tuck it into the locker and angels his head so he can kiss Derek's neck on the way then he turns him around and pulls him closer.

“So needy.” Derek teases and rolls his eyes gently. “Can’t you wait until we get to the car at least, fuck.”

Stiles answers by attacking Derek's lips with a greedy kiss. Derek makes a small noise like a purr and it sends shivers through Stiles body. He hums and tugs Derek closer by his hips, curving a hand into his tight jeans and squeezing a perfect ass cheek. Derek breaks the kiss and lets out a shaky breath, both hands hanging off Stiles shoulders.

“Guess not.” he says.

They make it the car without ripping each other's clothes off and Stiles calms down enough to spark up a blunt but then all sense goes out the window as he climbs onto Derek's lap and nibbles on his ear lobe.

Derek takes a drag and hums, signaling Stiles to face him so they can shot gun. Stiles seals it with a kiss then drags smoke-dry lips down Derek's neck, his whole body shivers at the slight prickle of hair and he smiles when Derek leans back to give him more space.

He kisses all the way down Derek's torso, rucking up his t-shirt so he can get to his smooth skin. His hands fumble at Derek's jean button and he flicks his tongue over his happy trail.

“Damn, Stiles.”

“It's been three days Derek. _Three days_ ,” he looks up with wild eyes and raised brows.

“I didn't realise you were keeping count,” Derek's says, lips laced with smoke.

“Just shut up and let me blow you,”

“Sure thing, batman.”

Stiles didn't think his dick could get any harder but Derek calling him batman and then leaning back in his chair, legs spread a little wider waiting for Stiles to pleasure him. He was so hard, it almost hurt.

~~

They see each other again when Erica invites Stiles to a “family outing” without Derek's knowledge.

Stiles is waiting outside the front door, hands pushed deep in his pockets as he rocks back and forth nervously.

While Derek's boundaries when it comes to his family have been somewhat thrown out, given the recent shower incident, and Stiles’ regular visits to the Hale/Lahey/Boyd/Reyes residents, he's pretty sure Derek _doesn't_ want him here.

Erica however, walks out and wraps her arms around Stiles and pinches his cheek.

“False affection just hurts my feelings. I know you only invited me because I drive.”

“Glad you know your place, Bilinski.” Isaac appears behind Erica and flicks a finger against Stiles’ temple as he passes him to get to the jeep.

“Don't listen to him. I wanted you to come.”

“Why? Where's Boyd?” he's asks skeptically.

“Stop. You're one of my best friends, and not because you drive a beat down jeep.”

She turns, taking Stiles hand and tugs him along to the car. Isaac's already sat inside rearranging the backseat. Stiles looks down at the car keys in his hand and scowls at him,

“You know I could have you arrested for that.”

“Please,” the approaching voice puts a smile on Stiles face. “You've smoked far too much of my pot to be calling the police on anyone.”

Derek come up behind him and Stiles simply turns his head, trying not to show much interest. Derek's grinning though and it's hard for Stiles to concentrate.

They all get in the jeep and Stiles is thankful for the music and open road to distract him from Derek's glances in the mirror.

They end up shopping for about an hour, Erica clinging onto Stiles’ arm, Isaac and Derek walking further behind glaring at passers by and talking lowly about girls they think are hot. It's laughable, really.

Erica lets go of Stiles for only a moment, enchanted by a skin tight red dress on a mannequin. Stiles folds his arms, not sure what to do with his hands when Erica's not holding them, the dress is perfect for herica. She soft golden curls over her shoulder while turning back to grin at the boys with childish delight.

“I _need_ it!” she almost squeals. She grabs the closest hand to her, which happens to be Isaac's, Stiles has moved noticeably closer to Derek since being set free of Erica's grasp, and drags him into the store.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment. Derek's pretending to be interested in the floor and Stiles watches Erica and Isaac inside the store.

“I'm hungry.” Derek says finally and turns around towards the wall of restaurants. Ofcourse he doesn't wait for Stiles and ofcourse Stiles follows.

Derek leads them into an Mexican place, Stiles notices how nice he is to the guy that gets them a table and the woman who takes their order. He doesn't notice that he's staring.

“You have a serious problem.”

Stiles blinks, “What?”

“Staring. All the time.”

“Oh.” he says a little embarrassed which is stupid, he's literally had Derek's dick in his mouth but sure, they should probably draw the line at staring. “Well maybe if you weren't wearing that ridiculous vest,”

“It's not ridiculous. _You're_ ridiculous.”

“Ouch.” he says dryly.

Derek flips a middle finger up at him and Stiles smiles fondly.

They're waiting for their food for quite a while, Derek curses kelly about it several times before Stiles can get a word in to change the subject.

“You think they have nice bathrooms here?”

“What?”

“Bathrooms. You know for pissing and other _activities_.” he puts unecessary emphasis on the last word  

“We are _not_ doing that.”

“Why not? I'll do that thing you like…”

Derek's stiffens and picks up one of the desert forks from the table, “Do I have to remind you again to keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Stiles flinches, “I was just joking. God, don't be so twitchy.” he knows he was pushing his luck but it was worth a shot.

Erica and Isaac come back eventually and Stiles is kicked out of his seat and forced to sit next to Derek. He thinks about messing with him under the table but he's also not really in the mood to get stabbed with a fork.

When everyone else is done eating he slides Derek his half empty plate of food and Derek shakes his head at him disapprovingly before devouring Stiles' leftovers. Stiles watches with delight and can't help taking a picture of him licking his lips clean of sauce with a spoonful of rice held up to his face. It's adorable and Stiles will make it his lockscreen.

There are multiple points throughout the rest of the day in which Stiles wants to jump Derek, push him a against a wall or drag him into one of the mall toilets and suck the soul out of him. But he doesn't. He resists.

Even at the end of the day when he's driven everyone home and Derek stays behind in the car a little while and they just sit in a comfortable silence, as if he's waiting for Stiles to rip his clothes off he doesn't. Today has been nice, perfect even, and they didn't touch each other's dick once.

“Thanks for the ride, batman,” Derek says eventually before letting himself out of the jeep.

Stiles nods and lets his head fall back against his seat, content. Happy.

Then he hears footsteps and the click of the passenger side door opening again. Derek's back. Stiles doesn't have time to react, Derek leans across the seat and presses warm lips against Stiles’ slightly parted mouth. He makes a soft startled sound but Derek ignores it, cradling the back of Stiles head and deepening the kiss. Stiles feels warm, his entire body hums and it's ridiculous how this one kiss has made him feel so...giddy. Derek pulls away slowly and then ducks back out of the car. No explanation or anything.

Stiles brushes a cool thumb over his now swollen lip and grins stupidly before starting his drive back home.

~~

**< Where are you?**

Stiles is in his bedroom, groggy from his much needed power nap. He's doing absolutely nothing all day but that amount of concentration on being unproductive takes a lot out of a guy.

  
**> I let Scott borrow the jeep so if you need rescuing again you're gonna have to call someone else.**

**< I'm outside asshole**

  
Stiles jumps up immediately and runs downstairs, in just a t-shirt and boxers, buckling over several times. He swings the door open and Derek's standing there, phone halfway to his ear, wearing a baby blue top that does wonders for skin and the tightest pair of jeans Stiles has ever seen.

“You gonna let me in or what? It's fucking hot out here,”

“I'll say.” Stiles moves so Derek can come and in and quickly closes the door behind them. “So is this a business visit or you just really wanted to see me?”

Stiles turns and Derek's already started up the stairs, pulling his top off, revealing a smooth defined back and perfectly centre placed spiral tattoo. He grins and follows, undressing himself on the way.

Derek's waits for Stiles to reach the bedroom and shut the door before pulling him into a kiss and letting himself fall against the mattress. It takes Stiles a while to concentrate after comprehending what's actually going on right now, that Derek came all the way here to see Stiles. To have him. It's usually always Stiles going over to Derek's after being bored of playing with himself.  
_Does this mean Derek needed him?_ He doesn't want to overthink it, Derek's not exactly a fan of Stiles thinking they're in a relationship or anything but the idea of Derek needing Stiles does sound pretty fucking awesome.

Stiles’ hands are all over Derek's chest, roaming without purpose as if exploring Derek's toned and perfect body for the first time. Derek's hands are on either side of Stiles face, pulling him down closer, crashing their lips together. He groans impatiently and drags one of Stiles hands down to his crotch and bucks his hips.

“So needy,” Stiles mimics and teases by moving his hand painfully slowly over Derek's obvious erection.

He moves his burning lips to kiss and suck under Derek's chin, then drags them down to his throat where he purposely leaves hickeys.

Derek moves a hand down to help himself out and Stiles quickly slaps it away, then he sits up and tuts. He's about to tell Derek off when he feels Derek stiffen underneath him. He frowns and turns his head in the direction of Derek's stare, the door.

“Yo, Daddy” Stiles says slowly as he dismantles. His Dad stares back at him blankly, door only half open, handle squeezed tight in his fist.

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit_

 

 


	7. Didn't even say goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a flare for the dramatic.  
> Y'all didn't forget about danny did you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back by popular demand ;)

Stiles tries to ignore it - the look on Derek's face - the scowl, the dark eyebrows arched low over even darker and meaner eyes. He'd gotten so used to a softer look on Derek, one that he recognised on his friends, a look of fondness and a gentleness behind that biting glare that said I hate you. He'd gotten used to it and also been very, unexpectedly, attracted to it. He ignores it because he doesn't want to ruin something that could have been something.

“Well,” he starts, first to break the silence since his Dad's poorly timed intrusion and swift exit. “That was awkward.”

Stiles is too busy pretending like everything's okay that it takes him a second to notice Derek frantically putting clothes on and half running out the door. He grabs his arm just in time and - big mistake. Derek glares at him and then at his hand and back at Stiles again. The look is deadly and Stiles takes several steps back.

“You don't have to go. I mean, he's seen worse.” he has.

“He didn't see anything. Nothing happened,”

Not this again.

“So just fuck off alright.”

Stiles doesn't try and stop Derek again, it wouldn't have helped, instead he watches him run down the stairs pushing passed his slightly confused father and leave.

He sits at the top of the stairs, flinches when the door slams and then puts his head his hands, sighing deeply.

“Was that Derek Hale?” is all he hears his father say before flopping onto his back and groaning loudly into his hands. It was all going so well. Until now.

~~

After a considerable amount of pacing, Stiles figures he'll give Derek a day to cool off and hopefully realise the situation doesn't call for nearly as much drama as will probably follow. Normally he would have gone to pick Derek up for work, as this is the one day they're working the same shift. However he doesn't think the gesture would be much appreciated by his recently traumatised fuck buddy.

He gets to work and goes straight to the locker room to change, it's only Boyd in there who makes a muffled noise that Stiles accepts as a hello. Stiles attempts a non distracted smile as he glances desperately at Derek's locker to see if he's come in to work, it would be locked either way so it's a wasted glance.

Boyd and Stiles leave the locker room together and he tried to be as stealthy as possible when he peeks around the closing kitchen door Boyd enters, to see if Derek’s in there, angrily making burgers.

Stiles is surprised by the breath he lets out upon seeing Derek's dark figure leaning up against the dishwasher, arms folded over that ridiculously toned chest. He half smiles before walking over to join Erica wiping down tables.

Like a stalker, he spends the entire first half of his shift, sneaking peeks and glances through the swinging doors as Isaac brings trays of hot food out. Derek never leaves and it's starting to bum Stiles out. On his lunch break he calls Scott who has nothing to offer other than, “that's rough buddy”. Which in all fairness, is the truth. It is rough. Stiles had never had this much trouble coming out, his Dad hadn't even been surprised. Sure figuring out that he enjoyed sucking of guys as much as he did eating girls was a struggle to accept but after he did, Stiles had pretty much shouted it from a hilltop.

But Derek isn't like that.

He is most likely never going to speak to Stiles again, in order to keep his secret safe. He’s also most likely going to deny there is any secret to be kept.

After his break he returns to see Derek out of his chef get-up and standing at the till. He beams. Has to stop himself from running over to him. He tries to keep it cool, hides his smiles behind the last of his coffee then throws that in the bin and passes Derek on his way to a table that needs clearing. They do this for hours. Stiles watches as Derek's charming grin disappears  
after each satisfied customer leaves.  
The urge to speak to him forms a twitch in Stiles hand, which he mostly ignores. For a second.

“Hi,” he says quickly, dropping an empty tray on the pile next to the till. Derek doesn't look at him but he does take a few steps back, slowly enough that no one else would realise. But Stiles does. And it hurts him. “You okay?” he asks only half expecting to actually get an answer.

“Mhm” is all he gets.

“I um, so you wanna talk after work?”

“About?” he checks over Stiles’ shoulder for any approaching customers.

Now Stiles is annoyed. Of all Derek's many personalities, the pathological liar that pretends he and Stiles aren't anything, is not a favourite. He'd literally rather have Derek chase him around school with a bat, shouting threats, than have him ignore the fact that Stiles even exits.

“About us you idiot.” he says frustratedly. Then, reading the disapproving expression on Derek hard face as he finally looks at him, softens his tone. “About my Dad.”

“Hey, how can I help?” Derek's not looking at Stiles anymore, he's turned to face and greet a customer. Stiles rolls his eyes and shuffles a little out of the woman's way. “Have you been to Lani’s before? Great, what will you be having? Yep. Okay. Anything else? Great. It'll be over shortly.”

Stiles waits for the woman to leave, choose a seat and take her wandering eyes off of Derek. He opens his mouth to make a comment about the nerve of some people but Derek interrupts him,

“We have nothing to talk about. Just do what we're paying you for,” he shrugs. “or get the fuck out.”

He's more disappointed than surprised at Derek's response. Still, he scowls and storms off somewhat dramatically.

Stiles doesn't wait for Derek after work for their usual smoke break, so you can imagine his surprise when he's walking to his car and Derek approaches. He pushes him, surprisingly gently, against the hood of the jeep with a fistful of Stiles shirt in his hand.

They're both breathing pretty hard and Stiles is staring desperately into Derek's eyes trying to figure out if he's going to hit him or kiss him. He favours the latter.

Derek inches close causing Stiles’ breathing to falter,

“Back off.” Derek spits.

“Said the guy pressing into me with what's obviously not a phone in his pocket.”

Derek recoils and lets go of Stiles immediately. “Shut up, I'm serious.” he glances behind him to where the empty, blacked out restaurant sits. His eyes are dark again and Stiles loses his smirk. “Back off and tell your Dad to keep quiet. We're not doing this anymore and whatever he thinks he saw,”

Stiles raises an eyebrow, still amused by Derek's ability to lie to everyone including himself.

“Just tell him to mind his own business.”

“Sure thing Der,” he rolls his eyes. “You gonna threaten me into giving you a ride home too?”

“No. I'll walk.” he looks at Stiles one last time before pushing his hands in his pockets and walking off. Stiles watches him and thinks how he could ever be attracted to someone who seems to hate him so much.

Even so, he figures Derek just needs another day to cool off and realise how badly he's overeating.

“You don't break up with people because their Dad catches you making out,” he tells Scott on the phone the next day.

“ _Didn’t you say he's in the closet? Maybe he's scared your Dad might out him_ ,” Scott offers plainly. They've been talking since morning, he told Stiles he was busy but it hadn't stopped him from keeping Stiles on the line while he gave dogs and cats their shots. And it certainly hadn't stopped Stiles talking his ear off for two hours.

“I know. He is. It's ridiculous. Dad wouldn't do that. And anyway Cora’s out, that should like inspire him.”

“ _Everyone's too scared of them to talk shit about it anyway.”_

“Exactly.” Stiles sighs. He knows it's not that simple but he wishes it would be.

He and Derek had a good thing going. And not just because he had nice abs, bigs hands and sweet lips. He liked talking to Derek, and felt a sense of accomplishment in those rare moments when Derek opened up to him, even if they only occurred under the influence.

The point is they were getting somewhere. Derek was warming to Stiles, starting to like him as a person. And now that's all fucked because of something so stupid.

_“Don't sweat it man. You probably won't even miss him. He was kind of an asshole anyway.”_

It's true. Derek was an asshole but he was kind to Stiles, kind enough. And while Derek was having a personality makeover and going soft, Stiles was starting to fall for the grumpy gangster as well.

He sighs, “Yeah but he was my asshole.”

_“Um. Is that like, gay slang for something?”_

“Oh my god”

Scott's nervous laughter is heard on the other end of the phone and Stiles shakes his head. The doorbell rings and Stiles says a rushed goodbye before basically sprinting to get it.

It's a long shot but he hopes it's Derek.

It rings again when he's halfway down the stairs so he skips the last four steps, almost falls flat on his face before standing to open it.

Long story short. It's not Derek.

“Dad?” he's steps aside to let the slumped over man in. His Dad is holding keys in one hand while the other drags slowly down his face. He looks exhausted, which is normal, but something else is definitely off. Stiles glances at the clock on the wall, “It's only 3.30pm what are you doing home? Are you okay?”

“Son,” he starts. His voice is drawn.

Stiles closes the door quickly and hurries over to him, panic starting to kick in.

“There's been a...someone has…”

Stiles notices the other object in his father's hand besides the keys. A small piece of paper, a note maybe or a photograph. His Dad raises it up weakly so Stiles can take it.

It's a picture of his Dad getting into his car outside the station, although it's hard to make out, the sheriff's face has been circled in red. Stiles’ chest tightens and he glances frantically between the drained look on his Father's face and the photograph.

Stay quiet is written in bad handwriting on the back.

“It was on my desk this morning. I've been answering questions and setting up security details since then. I didn't wanna tell you until I had.”

“Is this, a threat? Someone's- what the fuck?!” He shakes his head over and over. “Security details? What? You're the Sheriff you don't need security. This is ridiculous it's just a picture and some pathetic threat?”

Stiles’ hand is shaking a little and his voice hiccups but he ignores it.

“That's what I thought. But I've been working this particular case and… we think this could be pretty serious.”

“What case?”

Sheriff gives Stiles a dry look.

“Okay fine. But it also could be some stupid kid who you wrote off for a DUI or something…”

Or something.

Stiles dismisses the idea as soon as it pops in his head. Derek might be a criminal and an asshole but he's not stupid. He wouldn't threaten Stiles’ Dad, not so publically. And not over this. It's ridiculous. He wouldn't. Would he?

~~

Stiles’ plan to give Derek space before talking sense into him has been derailed. It appears Derek has lost all his sense.

He drives to Lani’s shortly after his Dad finishes explaining the severity of the threat and the extra police car that will parked outside. All the while he's thinking how much of an idiot Derek is and how much he wants to hit him if he's responsible for this.

He storms inside the restraint, which is noticeably more packed than usual but Stiles ignores it, pushing through to the kitchen and then to the locker rooms. He doesn't even wait for Isaac or Erica to leave when he grabs Derek and shoves him against his own locker.

“Was it you?” he shouts.

Isaac moves fast and tries to pull him off of Derek, spouting something like have you lost your mind.

Derek's expression is a mixture of guilt and utter shock, but he mostly looks angry. Stiles shoves Isaac off and Erica warns both of them but he pays no attention, goes back to handling Derek.

“Did you threaten my Dad? Was it you?”

“You're gonna wanna calm down Stilinski.” Is all Derek says. Stiles takes it as a yes and tightens his grip on Derek's collar.

“Of all the dick moves this is bar far the worst! You idiot!” he slams him against the lockers and feels isaac move behind him, probably to step in again but there's no need. Derek seems to have grown tired of Stiles manhandling him, he pushes Stiles back and onto the floor.

“I said calm down.” Derek's standing over him, towering, dark and angry. He lifts his head as Stiles struggles to get up, and gestures for Erica and Isaac to leave.

Stile stands and pats down his shirt. Derek turns back to his locker and puts his clothes that had fallen when Stiles grabbed him back inside.

“You know my Dad thinks this threat is serious. He's gonna have cops follow me around and camp out outside our house. This isn't a joke Derek.”

“I know.” he turns and looks at Stiles blankly. “If you didn't keep pushing I wouldn't have done this.”

“Pushing? I just tried to talk to you. And now you're gonna what? Beat up my Dad?”

Derek folds his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

“This is stupid Derek. He's not going to tell anyone,”

“Good, because there's nothing to tell. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. You just another way to pass the time, Stilinski.”

Stiles knows that is meant to hurt him but he swallows it down and ignores it. Derek's lying. He has to be.

“Your Dads gotta be silenced.”

Stiles sighs heavily and rubs at his face with a frustrated and trembling hand. He's panicked and angry and confused. This entire situation has been blown out of proportion and he can't really deal with it right now.

“Don't you think you're overreacting?”  
  
“No.” Derek says dryly, not even batting an eyelash.

Stiles half lunges across the room to him, it's probably not nearly as intimidating as he means it to be.

“Look you're not going to kill my dad, the sheriff, chief of police, just because he found out you're gay,”

“I’m what?”

“Oh my god. Can we have one crisis at a time please. I can't deal with Closet Derek and Homicidal Derek.”

Derek steps forward, achieving the pants shitting fear Stiles has failed to protest, and grabs the front of Stiles’ shirt. “What I like is nobodies business but mine and what we were doing isn't either.” he spits and it sends a shiver through Stiles’ already shaking body.

“He's not going to say anything.” Stiles’ words are lost to Derek, who lets go eventually and starts to walk towards the door. “Derek stop!”

The first time he tries to catch Derek's swinging arms he misses, the second is more desperate as he throws himself between Derek and the door. It hits him that Derek might actually do what he's threatening, no matter how ridiculous Stiles might find it this guy is dead set on staying in the closet.

“You're not going to kill my fucking Dad over this you asshole.”

There's a pause, Derek's eyes are softer but still piercing. He tries not to hope too hard that Derek's reconsidering. That he's willing to put his homicidal tendencies to the side, for Stiles. That maybe he wasn't imaging Derek treating him differently lately, being kind.

Then Derek's eyes go tight and he takes a deep breath and says,

“Don't worry Stiles, you'll learn to live without him.”

Stiles recognises the look of hurt hidden in Derek's glare and his shoulders fall weakly, “Derek, please” he begs with no real effort. Then he lets the other boy move around him and leave, he thinks about stopping him but doesn't for fear it might make things worse.

  
When Stiles gets home, Scott is waiting for him in the living room with his father, who's talking on the phone. Scott stands up immediately and goes to Stiles’ side.

“So? What'd he say?”

Stiles walks to the kitchen and looks for something strong to drink.

“Well he's probably, most definitely going kill my Dad.”

“Holy shit.”

He finds a beer, it's the last one,  
opens its and lazily puts it to his lips before taking a long drink. “Yep,” he says, “or at least try. Either  
way he's going to get himself locked up. Which is probably what he actually wants. Can you believe he blames me?” he lets the alcohol burn his throat and closes his eyes.

Scott looks thoughtful but what's there to think about. Everything has made Stiles numb. He can't protect his Dad because he can't tell him it's Derek who sent the threat, and he can't tell him it's Derek because he's trying to protect him.

Mindfuck.

He misses when his biggest problem was running away from Derek Hale, not being tangled up in all his bullshit.

~~

Stile wakes up with a raging hangover, it seems at some point he and Scott found some more alcohol to drown their sorrows in. He treats his migraine halfheartedly with a glass of water. There's two police vehicles parked outside his house that he squints at through his bedroom window and sighs.

He rummages for his phone on the bed and rolls Scott out of the way to take and seat and dial Derek's number.

His voicemail answers. _What do you want?_

“Hey Dildo it's your friendly neighborhood Sheriff's son calling to ask you politely to not do anything stupid. I know you think the worlds gonna end if my Dad knows about us but just, please, don't.”

It's probably a wasted effort but he sends it anyway. And continues to do so for three days straight, three times a day.

_What do you want?_

“Derek it's me again. I'm guessing you're taking everyone else's calls. We'll not guessing I hacked your voicemail they're all only from me. Call me back. Please.”

_What do you want?_

“Look man I promise I'll leave you alone whatever you want just leave my old man out of this. Erica says you've not been in to work. I don't know what you're planning but please stop.”

_What do you want?_

“Derek you son of a bitch. Call me back! Where have you been?”

_Message box full._

Stiles throws his phone across the room and groans. He takes his anger downstairs, outside to his jeep, and drives to Derek's house.

He'd been keeping his distance to try and not make things worse but worse is here. Derek's been missing for two days and his Dad's calling off the protection detail tomorrow. Stiles has never been such a wreck.

When he arrives his whole body's shaking, both panic and anger.

Boyd answers.

Stiles goes to push inside but Boyd stops him with one hand, “He's not here.”

He doesn't stay to hear anything else and doubts Boyd had anything else to say; those three words being the longest conversation they've had.

He bursts into the restaurant like he had done only a few days earlier, once again looking for Derek.

“Is he here? Where's Derek?” he asks no one in particular. And no one answers. Isaac's at the till doing a dodgy exchange with a girl he recognises as one of their specie customers. He ignores Stiles when he storms over and demands to know where Derek is.

“Dude you're freaking out the customers,” it's not Isaac's voice that answers but he recognises it.

Stiles turns to see Danny with a forced smile on his face.

“Is Derek working today?” Stiles asks quickly, ignoring the hand on his shoulder as Danny leads him away from the startled customers.

“No but you should be.”

“Where is he?”

“I don't know. Will you just chill out.”

Chill out? Stiles is ready to flip a fucking table, if someone doesn't tell him where that sick, twisted, glaring, annoyingly attractive, little shit is.

“Stiles are you okay?” Erica appears from the kitchen and makes her way over to a shaking, flushed face Stiles.

“He wants to know where tall dark and handsome is,” Danny answers for him.”

Erica frowns but puts a soothing hand over Stiles anyway. “He left with Cora a few days ago. Some family thing, I don't know. He was being a brat about it, said we couldn't all go,”

Stiles tries to catch his breath. “He- they left?”

Erica nods. “Seriously though, are you okay? Did you run here or something?”

“No. I'm...fine.” Which was only half a lie.

Derek had left, he'd actually, literally run away from his problems. Stiles guesses it's better than the alternative, possibly killing his father, but for some reason he isn't at all relieved by the news. He'd taken Cora with him, the only other person Stiles knows Derek's cares about. What if they don't come back. Stiles can't believe it himself but, even after all the shit Derek's put him through he's actually worried about never seeing him again.  
He has this dying need to know where Derek went, and why. The only reason he doesn't ask is because he's already made a show of himself in front of a restaurant full of people - people who include the owner's son Danny - and that it would look super weird if Stiles, who only took the job because he threatened into it, was suddenly so concerned about Derek's we'll being.

Stiles finds his breathing has slowed. He pulls his hand free from Erica's and heads to the changing room. He leans against his locker and immediately pulls out his phone, his thumb hovers over Derek's number  
on instinct but he hesitates, stares at it and lets his mind fill with all the possible reasons Derek would have left. Not wanting to risk being outed and never having to see Stiles are both pretty plausible reasons but Stiles is a hopeless romantic, he can't help but think that maybe Derek left because he didn't actually want to hurt his dad and more importantly because he didn't want to hurt Stiles.

He rolls his eyes. What a softie.

The door swings open and Stiles’ fuzzy feeling subsides.

“Stiles what's the hold up?” It's Danny.

“Shit sorry I'm coming.”

“You all good now?” he asks closing the door and folding his arms. “What was that out there? Derek sell you some bad weed or something?”

Stiles blinks, “Um,”

“It's cool.” he pushes one hand  
into his back pocket and produces a spliff, waves it in front of Stiles, “Who do you thinks keeping this shit a secret from my parents?” he smirks and Stiles relaxes a little.

Stiles swaps with Isaac and is put on the till, by the end of the day his jaw aches from all the fake smiling. Just before closing a guy comes in and asks for a green tea.

“Where's the boss?”

Stiles puts the cup on the counter and nods towards Erica.

“Not the chick. The big guy. I gotta speak to him.”

“Derek?”

“What I fucking say,” the guy says and snatches the cup from the counter to inspect the two roll ups inside.

“He's not here.” Stiles answers dryly. Not happy to be reminded that Derek's gone much less that he left without saying where he was going. The little shit didn't even say goodbye. He at least owed Stiles that much, after threatening to kill his Dad.

“Well where is he?”

“Your guess is as good as mine buddy.”

“I need to know where he is, I want to talk to him,”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “And people in hell want ice water,” he says and takes the cup back and holds it out of the guys reach. “Now you gonna pay for this or what?”

“You getting smart with me asshole?”

He sighs. It's going to be a long night.

~~

It's takes Stiles forever to fall asleep, he even tries jerking off but it doesn't help. He gets up  
to clean himself off and then throws  
himself back into bed. His phone buzzes and he guesses it's just his Dad again with another ten minute  
update on his whereabouts. So  
you can imagine his surprise when Derek's name appears on his dimly  
lit screen.

**> I'm sorry.**

Stiles reads the message over in his head several times while smiling. And at some point he falls asleep.


	8. The sext step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soooo, this starts off very dramatic and ooc but that’s kind of the point so don’t be too mad at stiles. there’s some subtle jock!stiles but mostly it’s just an insight to his friendships ((or one in particular) if the friendship stuff is something yous like them let me know bc i didn’t know if it was relevant for this story)). derek is gone but not for long because i can’t stand radio silence. stay for the ending it’s the best bit ;)))))
> 
> p.s MERRY CHRISTMAS XXxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO DON’T BE MAD  
> I know it took me F O R E V E R to update but i was anxious about where the fuck this story was actually going and i kind of kicked myself in the tits by making derek leave but it’s all (somewhat) sorted now and i will be posting regularly. i am so sorry!!!!! thank you so much for the comments and requesting updates it so nerve wracking sharing your work so that’s was really sweet. i can’t even tell you how many times i re wrote this, i just Hope this is the best version! :)

For the most part Stiles takes Derek leaving without any explanation pretty well. Mostly.

He's sitting at his computer trolling Derek's profile page; he'd half expected it to be all doom and gloom with several shady numbers to contact him by. And is almost angry when he realises how normal it is, how normal Derek appears online.

There's several photos of Erica and Boyd and Isaac doing various things like, having lunch/ sitting in the park and one particularly sweet shot of Erica and Boyd sitting on the hood of expensive looking car. Stiles guesses it doesn't belong to them, seen as he's always dropping everyone home from work. The photo was taken on a polaroid camera and Stiles has to take a minute to let that sink in.

Derek Hale has a polaroid camera.

Derek's profile pic is of him and Cora, she's pulling his ears and frowning next to him. The likeness is uncanny, the Hales are seriously blessed with flawless dark eyebrows.

Stiles scrolls a couple months back, reading over the repeated Happy Birthday messages and photos with no captions. There's a message from someone named Mellie posted on Derek's wall, it's long and cheesey and a little over the top for a 17th birthday. Stiles clicks her profile and the screen refreshes: the first pic he sees is of Mellie and Derek, she's looking into the camera with a warm smile but Derek's still looking at her. He looks sad but also really happy, Stiles can tell from the crinkles in the corner of his eyes.

Cora’s tagged in the photo as well, he guesses she took the picture. It doesn't take Stiles long to put together that this is Derek's Foster Mother.

He scrolls some more, suddenly intrigued by the woman, until he finds another photo of Derek - by himself this time. It's from two years ago - Stiles hadn't realised he'd been scrolling that far - Derek's stood directly in front of the camera, arms awkwardly by his side. He only looks a little bit younger and his hair is cut much shorter. He's rolling his eyes and the corner of his mouth is turned up as if he's trying not to smile.

Stiles can just imagine Mellie fussing about Derek's hair and telling him to stand up straight and smile, and Derek rolling his eyes and sighing and actually having to have his arms pinned down so he doesn't cross them.

The caption reads: **Trying to make a good first impression for the newbies. The pack grows but I'll always have a special place for these grumpy pups. X**

Stiles clicks the little next arrow and there's a second photo of Cora; she's wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with a giant smiley face on it. One of her eyebrows are raised and between Cora trying to be ironic and Derek looking as though he's experiencing physical pain without his arms folded, Stiles can't help but laugh out loud.

Eventually he's able to tear himself away from the computer, after completing a healthy amount of stalking and successfully not liking any of the photos from more than a week ago.

Then he's - reluctantly - getting dressed and ready to go the dinner with the team.

Scott had sent him a reminder this morning and again an hour ago and Stiles had glared at the messages each time with more intensity.

But bless Scott, he had been making a real effort to keep Stiles from spiralling. Distracting him with parties and practices and dinners. He'd had to drag Stiles to the first couple - it goes without saying Stiles likes lacrosse and being on a team and everything, but with the exception of Kira and Scott the team is filled with less than interesting people. Specifically Jackson Whitmore.

When Derek was around Stiles had used that as an excuse to avoid the team, that and working at the diner. But he'd started working night shifts now and as far as Derek being around to get him out of it, well, he wasn't.

It's been something like a week since Derek performed his little disappearing act and Stiles has embarrassed himself at two parties during that time. He'd gotten so drunk both times and woken up with a banging headache.

The dinners aren't proving all that great either.

Stiles sits on the inside seat of the booth, trying to make himself invisible. Scott and Kira sit next to him and Danny, Jackson and the twins squeeze on the other side. After ordering, Stiles turns his attention to the half empty ketchup bottle in front of him, tossing it in the air and watches it land perfectly every time while the others engage in conversation.

“That's going to get pretty boring pretty soon,”

Stiles looks up a little just as the bottle lands on the table again, Danny's glaring at him.

“I find it quite relaxing actually. Constant.” He flips the bottle again. Another perfect landing.

Danny rolls his eyes. “You're being uncharacteristically quiet.” he says after a while, “You haven't hit on me in like a month, I'm worried about you.”

“Funny.”

It's no secret that Stiles has had a hard on for Danny since like, the beginning of time, but it's also just as well know that Danny turned Stiles down - on more than one occasion.

And after Danny started dating Ethan, Stiles had given up almost all hope.

“No, but seriously. What's up? You really hate McCalls team bonding experience this much?” Danny asks, taking the ketchup bottle from Stiles and blinking at him.

Stiles glances at the side of Scott's face, he's smiling brightly and saying something to Aiden. Kiras watching him with adoration and Jackson and Ethan are seeing who can throw the salt sachets the furthest. Fucking losers.

“Hate is a strong word. I don't mind it but I mean, this isn't really my crowd.”

“Actually it is. You're on the lacrosse team. You're best friends boning the captain. Face it Bilinksi, you're as much of a jock head as the rest of us. Stop being to stuck up,”

Stiles blinks, sitting back a little and putting both hands on the table. “I am _not_ stuck up.”

“Are too. You've always thought you're better than us,”

 _I am_. Stiles thinks.

“It's one of your more unattractive qualities,”

“Wait a minute,” Stiles leans in, “you're telling me the only reason we haven't hooked up is because you think I'm a jock-snob?”

“Hmm it's not the only reason but yeah.” Danny shrugs.

“Wow. I've seriously got to rethink my attitude towards sports huh?”

The food arrives and Kira passes down the plates. Stiles almost salivates at the sight of his noodles and sweet n sour chicken.

Danny watches him with disgust and entertainment in his eyes as Stiles devours nearly half the plate of food before the rest of them have even been handed theirs.

He licks his lips clean of grease and sauce and says, “For the record I'm not a jock-snob, I just don't believe in labels. I don't think we should judge people because of who they hang out with or what they do,”

Danny looks skeptical. “So that's why you've been avoiding practice and the entire team? You don't wanna associate with us. Wow, you flatterer”

He doesn't answer straight away, trying hard to distract his mind from wandering to the actual reason he's been avoiding his, well, life; to spend time with Derek

Derek who's not here anymore.

Fuck, his mind did it again.

“Actually no. I've just been, busy.” he buries his face in his plate of food, “with work and stuff” he adds quickly.

He chomps down another three bites, covering his mouth in sauce and stray noodles.

Someone fake gags from across the table and Stiles catches Jackson glaring at him. He smiles wide, purposely revealing the half chewed chicken bit in his mouth.

“You're disgusting.”

“Thank you.” Stiles says once he's swallowed.

Scott nudges him and takes a bite of his prawn cracker politely, “Play nice,” he says.

The smile that crawls across Jackson's face is eery and makes Stiles itch. He's the only one out of them who wears his lacrosse jersey everywhere. He's a typical jock and Stiles for the life of him can't stand the guy. He'd spent so much time sucking up to him, as a way to get in Danny's good graces but once that proved unsuccessful he'd been free to express his true feelings of disgust.

Before the insults can start, Ethan pipes up from the opposite end of the table.

“There's a party downtown if no ones busy tonight, it'll probably be good,”

A chain of nods follow. Ethan's looking directly at Danny when he speaks, who makes a noncommittal gesture and then turns to his food.

Ethan looks defeated.

This peaks Stiles’ interest just a little.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks, not even trying to mask the obvious grin on his face.

Danny ignores it. “You gonna go tonight?”

“Hmm,” Stiles pretends to mull it over, tilting his head and tapping his chin with his finger, “any chance you'll blow me if I do?”

Danny smiles, “No.”

“Well then.”

~~

Things are a little harder at work. There’s no Scott to distract him or Danny to empty flirt with. There's just random people, with bad manners and eating habits.

And of course there's Erica, she spends most of her time gliding around the shop floor, drooling charm and giving excellent customer service to these cliche couples and families who really don't deserve a second of her time.

Stiles adores her. She makes work look so effortless when in reality it's draining Stiles of whatever will to live was left after Derek abandoned him.

Yes, that's dramatic but it's just how he feels right now okay.

When Stiles arrives at work that same day, it's Boyd who greets him and hands him his apron. He's at the grill as usual and Stiles has dishwasher duty today, he prepares himself for the dead silence that will follow the next 6hours and sets up several different topics to talk to himself about in his head - all of which revolve around Derek.

But something quite different happens.

Hell freezes over.

“You wanna take your break together?”

Stiles doesn't react immediately. He's pretty sure he imagined it. It's only when he turns around and sees Boyd facing him, looking directly at him with expectant eyes that he opens his mouth to speak.

“What?” he's completely thrown off. Boyd and him do not speak. Not even so much as a hello. Sure, he gives him the nod on occasion but Stiles had always put that down to habit or maybe Boyd had a twitch.

This is the first time Boyd had ever directed speech at him.

“I need a smoke.” Boyd adds casually and takes off his apron before leaving the kitchen.

Stiles, still pretty shook, doesn't know what else to do so he just follows. They go outside through the back door and Boyd leans up against one of the walls not lined with trash. Stiles follows. He's watching Boyd as if he's some unbelievable creature Stiles can't quite comprehend.

Boyd pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, puts it to his lips and lights it before offering the packet to Stiles. He quickly accepts, takes one and puts in in his mouth but never actually lights it. He's just still in too much shock, he's half waiting for Boyd to scowl or glare at him or for Isaac to come running outside yelling “Syke”. But that doesn't happen. Nothing happens really. Boyd finished his cigarette, flicks it into one of the bins and then goes back inside.

“What the fuck just happened?” Stiles asks aloud as the door swings closed behind Boyds retreating figure.

Later, when he's sitting in his car outside he pulls his phone from his pocket and searches Derek's name. The text, I'm sorry, stares back at him on the screen and Stiles looks at with tired eyes.

He types,

**So me and boyd had a breakthrough today, well not really I'm probably overreacting but it was fucking weird. I think this means he likes me. Don't want you to get jealous or anything but he's a better smoke buddy than you, not so chatty**

He reads it over three times before eventually realising how stupid it is. Derek doesn't care. He left for a reason and it wasn't to keep in touch with Stiles. He deletes the message and starts his car.

Work for the next few days is a drag and he spends most of his breaks on the phone to Scott or Malia bitching about rude customers or messy babies that just don't seem to understand proper restaurant etiquette. Everything's normal and Stiles is still sad Derek's not around pretending to dislike him and then sucking him off in the storage room - they'd never actually done that in the storage room but it would've been fucking awesome. Yeah, everything's normal except for Boyd still being nice to him: standing next to him awkwardly at lunch, asking if he's eaten, nodding and giving him various unthreatening glances.

Stiles doesn't think he'll ever get used to it but it does give him an overwhelming sense of accomplishment every time he and Boyd share a simple interaction.

Even Isaac's back and fourth with Stiles has gotten softer, and that's even more of a headfuck.

“Erica can't work tomorrow, can you come in?”

He asks as Stiles approaches the counter to refill the salt and pepper shakers.

“Are you asking me? Wow that's a first. You not gonna threaten to skin me or put a bomb in my car if I don't?”

“One,” Isaac holds up a finger, “I've never threatened to skin you and two, why would I put a bomb in your car when I need you to drive me home?”

“Fair point.” Stiles tilts his head, considering, “Then yes Mr Lahey, I can work tomorrow.”

“Excellent Mr Stilinski, I look forward to continuing our partnership in a skin-peel-free environment.”

They both smile at each other, whether they're genuine smiles or not is debatable but it's good enough for Stiles.

The only one who's acting like themselves is Erica.

But, even with Isaac and Boyd finally treating Stiles like a decent human being, nothing seems to distract him long enough that forgets how much he misses Derek.

Stupid fucking Derek Hale. That moody bastard and his nice ass. Ugh.

Stiles starts typing another text message, this time he's at home when he does it. Lying down on his bed staring up at the ceiling listening to his Pathetic playlist - which he'd created specifically for the purpose of being sad.

**Split a dooby with the boys today, Isaac even let me take one home. He doesn't know I bag a whole bunch of them from under the counter all the time or maybe he does and this was his way of telling me it's okay. Anyway u should probably be jealous i think u were the only thing in the way of me and isaac's relationship reaching it's full potential**

**on a much more depressing note i haven't had my junk touched since u left, this girl offered to blow me at a party but i said no because she was pretty drunk. i was being a gentleman. that was a week ago... i guess you're not coming back so i really fucking regret that**

**i miss u man. okay? i said it. i miss you. i miss us. and look i'm not mad about the u and my dad stuff, i get it. just come back already this sucks.**

He stares at the message for a while, the little typing line blinking at him. He sighs and sits up and grabs from the bottle of jack daniels under his bed. Yes, it's come to this.

Stiles takes a swig, wincing as it burns the back of his throat. He takes two more and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then he sends the text. His phone makes a swoosh noise and it's sent. He flops back on the bed and closes his eyes. He puts one hand over his stomach, where his phone is lying facedown, and after a few minutes his hands makes its way into his pants.

He jerks off until his wrist aches, doesn't come once and eventually just gives up and turns over to fall asleep.

 

~~

 

  
_“You know, as co captain you could at least pretend to like the team.”_

Stiles glares down at his phone in the passenger seat of his jeep, Scott's voice is on loud speaker.

_“They all but worship you,”_

“Yeah,” he scoffs, making a left down his street. He's on his way to Kira's for another party he's had no excuse to get out of. “Well then what do I need to pretend for? We're captains. We made it. The hard part's over.”

_“Stiles come on. A captains only as good as his team.”_

“Hey, I will not be made responsible for their sucky game skills. Going to these fake frat parties is punishment enough okay,” he scoffs and shakes his head.

_“Kira's throwing this one, it's not going to be like that.”_

When Scott says _like that_ he's referring to the time the twins helped hold him upside down and drink from a keg.

He did it expertly of course but he's held it against them ever since.

Or the time he and Malia did body shots off of Jackson's stomach. The guy is such a meat head, it pays off, but still. He hated every moment of it.

“I'm here man, where are-”

A bike swerves a few paces away from Stiles jeep as he exits it, leaning across the seat to grab his phone and bottle of Jack Daniels.

Scott pulls off his helmet and places it in his lap them reaches in and takes his phone out.

“Dude that is not safe,” Stiles says, walking over.

“I didn't die did I? Would you prefer I hold it and drive with one hand?”

“Now that would be cool.”

Scott rolls his eyes and climbs off his bike, tucks his phone into his pocket and then looks Stiles up and down with wide eyes.

“You're wearing your jersey?!”

“Uh yeah. Kira put it on the invite.” He fixes himself in the slightly oversized lacrosse shirt. “I thought that's why you were giving me shit about the team. Because tonight's about them or whatever,”

Scott looks down at himself and tugs on his plain black dress shirt. He makes a defeated expression and then shrugs and starts walking.

“And no, I was giving you shit because you've had your head so far up Derek Hale's ass you haven't even payed attention to the team.” He says, pointedly and Stiles’ chest tightens at the mention of Derek.

Without a second thought he pulls out his phone and opens the message again. There's still no reply, just his sad lonesome text sitting there on the screen. He does notice however, the read receipt; **3hrs ago**.

“So the little shit has time to read my messages and not reply.” Stiles squints at the screen, glaring.

“Who? Derek?”

He ignores him and thumbs back a reply, to himself.

**I think I preferred when u were ignoring me to my face...actually no this is more fun. pls stay wherever u r.**

If Stiles were a cartoon he'd have smoke in his ears.

 **Asshole**. He adds, then pushes his phone into his pocket.

Scott's been watching him angrily type this whole time, with an amused smirk on his face as if he knows something Stiles doesn't.

“You finished writing your love letter?”

“Oh yeah, it'd make your heart ache.”

Scott rolls his eyes and practically pushes Stiles up the steps to Kira's front door, knocks twice then turns back to him and says,

“Try not to let Derek get in your head, four drink Stiles is a cryer and we had enough of that last night.”

Stiles winces, that he does remember, whimpering about ending up alone to Jordan the goalie. No. That was not going to happen tonight, tonight Stiles was definitely going to get wasted but there would be no crying.

Kira opens the door, also wearing her jersey and Scott curses himself quietly.

“You're here!” She beams and its infectious. She wraps her arms around both of their necks and kissed them sloppily, when she pulls away Scott puts his hand out to stop her falling over.

Kira may look cute and petite but the girl can put away a drink, or eight and she's probably the best to go partying with. It's one of the many reasons Stiles adores her - that and their shared interest in all things comics.

“Babe, how much have you had to drink?”

“You know, I don't know…” she sways and grabs onto Scott quickly. Both boys exchange a look. “Ooh is that for me?”

Kira's eyes are glued to the bottle in Stiles hand, he laughs and passes it to her. “Have at it,”

Scott raises his eyebrows and gives Stiles a look but he just shrugs and muffles another laugh with the back of his hand.

“Danny's handing out shots so hurry up,” Kira says, tugging on Scott's hand.

“Danny's here?” He asks quietly but both Scott and Kira hear him and each look at him funny. It's a stupid question. Of course he's here, he's on the team.

Scott kisses Kira sweetly and whispers something to her before she runs inside, then he turns his body towards Stiles and holds out his hand. Stiles smiles knowingly and does the same.

Good old fashioned, Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to play Mom tonight. The odds have not been in Scott's favour the last two days so Stiles isn't worried.

They go three for three and, obviously Stiles wins.

“Thanks buddy,” he says after a silent cheer, pats Scott on the back sympathetically and runs inside after Kira.

 

 

~~

 

 

The first time it happens is partially on accident.

Stiles is really, really drunk and just testing his luck. He never expected Danny to say yes.

Stiles has been rolling the idea around in his head of hooking up with Danny. He doesn't know if it's just to do with the fact that he's lonely and a little pathetic or because somehow, he's actually hopeful that Danny might want to hook up with him even after all this time.

Either way, something gives him the courage to ask, so blatantly to the point,

“Would you let me blow you next door?”

He's leaning against a wall next to one set of speakers. Danny's standing in front, a little oblivious to Stiles even being there, as per. His eyes are big and glistening with hope but his mouth his set, no smirk no smile as if he's barely keeping it together.

Danny's still staring at him, perplexed and slightly amused. He looks away for a second, Stiles guesses he checking to see if anyone else heard that desperate and embarrassing offer. Then he turns back, grabs Stiles’ own drink out of his hand and chugs back what's left before saying nonchalantly, “Alright.”

And that's that. Stiles hadn't put much thought into what he might do if Danny said yes, or no for that matter. He was winging this whole thing.

It really only sinks in when they're already in the closet; Danny pulls Stiles in by his shirt and locks the door behind him, then he waits and looks at him with this daring grin, as if he's waiting for Stiles to back out.

“On your knees then, Stilinski,” he teases.

He's not sure if it's the formality of being called by his last name, Danny's mocking tone or being told what to do in general but Stiles’ excitement falters. Maybe the alcohol is wearing off.

“First of all, this is my idea so I'll give the instructions Mahealani.” he says brazenly, trying to not stumble over the shoes. Danny raises an eyebrow. “Take your pants off and try to keep it down.” he says and then, not because he was told, falls to his knees.

In Stiles’ many vivid dreams about hooking up with Danny, there had always been more kissing involved. It had even rough, sure who doesn't love the rough stuff, but it had also been sweet and stuff you fantasise about.

This was just...different.

Danny is doing his best to stay quiet, like Stiles said, and that gives him a little tingling sensation every time Danny tries to silence or hush his own moans. Stiles keeps his hands on either side of his hips, stroking occasionally with the pad of his thumb. He's always imagined blowing Danny would be like some religious experience, like the room would glow and everywhere would smell of sweet flowers or something.

But it was just normal. Maybe a little more exciting and dangerous because he was drunk and they’re doing it in a closet.

Stiles pulls back slightly, dragging his tongue under and along Danny's full length, and looks up at him. Danny's eyes are closed, brows knotted slightly and he's biting down hard on his lip. Honestly, it's a view Stiels could get used to. As such, he keeps his mouth and tongue where they are at the head of his dick.

He hums a little to get Danny's attention, as if to warn him this is where I'm staying now. In protest, Danny's reaches for Stiles cheek and tries to bring him forward but Stiles gums again and sweetly flicks his tongue against the slit. Danny's shoves and lets his hand fall.

Several kitten licks later and Danny's half buckled over ready to explode. His breathing is harsh and strangled, he's got one hand tangled in Stiles hair but he doesn't try to move his head. Stiles moves only a little, to fit his lips around the head, and quite literally sucks the orgasm out of Danny.

It's a mess and Stiles misses nearly all of the come but he hadn't really been trying. He enjoyed messing with Danny, looking at him, by the end of it the blowjob seemed like an afterthought.

The second time of course, Stiles knew exactly what he was doing and why.

It was after work, Boyd had asked for a ride home and Stiles had obliged. Then he asked if Stiles wanted to come in for dinner and that'd been too much.

Stiles can't bring himself to imagine being in that house without Derek, probably because he had no business being in there even with Derek.

So he drives away, pulls out his phone to send a quick text before his mind can wander too far into that d(erek)ark place.

About an hour later he parks the jeep and walks up the steps to the house. Danny's opens the door, only wearing tracksuit bottoms, smiling knowingly and moves to let Stiles in.

They stand in the hallway awkwardly for a moment. Stiles mindlessly plays with his car keys, trying to focus on not walking out and realising what a bad idea this is was.

Danny clears his throat before speaking, “Do you want a drink or something?”

“No but I want you to stop smiling like that.”

He puts his hands up in defense and his smirk doesn't leave his face. “Hey, you're the one who keeps coming to me I'm allowed to be a little smug about it.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and shoves his keys in his pocket, then he follows Danny into the living room even after telling himself - for the millionth time - this is a bad idea.

Despite all that, it seems to be working - working in this case means helping Stiles get over Derek. He hasn't stalked his facebook, or any other social media, in like three days. Hasn't pity-jerked off or sent anymore desperate texts. No, none of that, just good old fashioned getting under someone to get over someone else. It's his plan, however flawed, and he likes it.

The third time it happens though, Stiles is much more skeptical. About Danny, about Derek, about everything.

He's sitting in his living room, splayed out on the couch with a packet of chips on his stomach, like a real slob, waiting for his Dad to get home from work so they can order in.

There's some stupid game show playing on the tv but Stiles isn't really paying attention, so when his Dad finally arrives and with a stack of paperwork tuck under his arms, Stiles is easily distracted.

He jumps up from the couch and dusts crimps off his crumpled shirt.

“Yo, Daddy,” he calls and his father makes a noncommittal noise in response. Stiles meets him in his office, sighing heavily and scratching his back of his head.

“What's up? What's all this?” Stiles asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He picks up a few files and flips through them; it's the usual, nothing too interesting. Then he spots a file, it's thinner than the others but has several pits of paper attached to it. Something scratched the back of Stiles’ throat and he swallows as he reads the name printed at the top of the file.

_Hale, Derek_

Stiles freezes for a moment while the room spins, long enough that he doesn't hears his father's voice until the third time he speaks.

“Have you eaten son?” he says, again looking a little worried but mostly tired.

Shaking his head is all Stiles can do, he looks for the words but they don't come. He rests the file back onto the table and tries not to panic or doing anything rash.

“I was waiting for you.” he says finally, “I feel like Mexican, you?”

“Sounds good. Just give me a minute,” his Dad shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his shoes.

Stiles hasn't taken his eyes off of Derek's file and the more he looks at it the more paper he sees attached to it. He's itching to know what it says, what his Dad knows why he's bringing Derek's file home. It's all driving him a little crazy.

Nevertheless, he makes it through dinner and they share a six pack of beers before the Sheriff calls it quit - Stiles forgets what a lightweight he's become since he cut down on drinking. It's kind perfect though, gives him an opening to snoop while his Dad catches some Z’s upstairs.

“Son,” Stiles is halfway to the office when his Dad calls for him. he's standing at the top of the stairs, rubbing his temple soothingly.

“Yeah, pops?” Stiles says, non-suspectly.

“You weren't, you know, dating that Hale kid were you?”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Stiles’ heartbeat goes from 0-100 before his Dad even finished the sentence. He laughs nervously but it comes out more like a wheeze.

“Um, no. I just work with him, or I did until-” Stiles cuts himself short. “Why’d you ask?”

His Dad waves his hand a little and shakes his head, “Oh nothing just work stuff. I'll see you in the morning kid, I gotta lay down.”

“Sure thing Dad. Goodnight.” he waits patiently to hear the bedroom door shut before darting into the office.

The files have moved to the Sheriff's desk, Derek's is at the bottom of the pile. Stiels hold it in his hand for a prolonged amount of time. He wants to read it so bad, feels like he needs to for the safety and wellbeing of his own ass and Derek's. But a bigger part of him is reminded how private Derek is, and how grumpy. The file probably says stuff about his family and Stiles doesn't want to find out about it this way, he'd rather have Derek tell him.

He shakes his head finally. He's not gonna do it. Instead, he scans over the losie sheets of paper attached; most of them are just scribblings in his Dad's handwriting, seeming unrelated to Derek or drugs. On of the post-it’s theirs a name written and underlines three times; Peter. Stiles doesn't recognise it. Underneath that, taped the the file is a printed surveillance photo of two men, maybe pens younger - it's hard to tell, it's blurry and they have their backs to the camera.

Stiles smirks a little when he realises which one is Derek. He can't mask that ass.

He guess then that the other guy is Peter, they're not doing anything particularly suspicious in the photo but it's obviously of some importance to Stiles’ father so it can't be good.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Stiles puts the files back in the order he found them and sneaks back out of the office. It doesn't look like his Dad has anything on Derek, he seems more interested in this Peter guy but something still has Stiles panicked.

He gets up early for work the following morning. If he can't speak to Derek maybe he can speak to Erica or even his new best friend, Boyd.

“Stiles your shift isn't until 3pm, did you forget?” Erica asks sweetly, she's drawing around her hand on top of a napkin.

Stiles shakes his head, “No, I need to talk to you.”

“Mhm, about what sweetie?” she doesn't look up at him, just tilts her head a little.

He puts both hands on the counter and leans forward to whisper in her ear, “It's about Derek.”

That gages Ericas full attention, causing her to lift her head and look at Stiles properly just as Isaac comes up behind him. He puts a heavy hand on Stiles shoulder and shakes it a little for good measure.

“What about Derek?” he pipes up and Stiles glares at nothing in particular.

“I don't know but it must be important,” Erica says waving her pen around, “he came in four hours early just to tell me. Spill,”

Stiles glances between Erica and Isaac, both waiting patiently for him to explain what's got him charging into work four hours early.

“I..it's my Dad.” he swallows, “He brought Derek's file home last night. I didn't read it. But there was some stuff attached to it, nothing to build a case over but I just thought-

“Thought you should tell us anyway. Good job, Bilinski.” Isaac's hand feels heavier. “Don't worry about it.”

“Don't worry? Shouldn't we- shouldn't you tell Derek. What if my Dad does find something on him?”

“But you said he didn't have anything to build a case with?”

“Well yeah, not yet,”

“So it's fine then.” Isaac's smile tightens. “Besides. Derek's not even around right now so there's nothing we can do.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. As if he needs a reminder. He shrugs off Isaac's hand and turns away from him. “I know he's not around but we are! I can't get busted for selling pot.”

“Keep your voice down,” Erica hisses.

“Anyway that's not it,” Stiles continues, lowering his voice but still a little annoyed at how calm they're both acting about this. “There was another guy, an older guy. Peter?”

There's a pause ad Erica and Isaac share a glance that makes Stiles feel very uneasy. “You wanna clue me in?” he asks, pissed off.

Erica shakes her head, “It's nothing.”

“Oh really?”

“Nothing to get yourself all hot and bothered about. We'll handle it.”

“What's there to handle if it's nothing? Who's Peter?”

“Jesus you ask a lot of questions. Don't make me regret our blossoming friendship, Stiles. We said it's nothing so it's nothing.” Isaac claps him on his back again and Stiles grimaces. “Go play lacrosse or something, don't worry about it.”

“Go play lacrosse or something? Are you shitting me?”

He turns to Erica with pleading eyes. She looks at him a little pityingly but still shakes her head. “Isaac's right. Don't worry about it.” she says. “Now if you're not going to pick up a tray I suggest you get out of here until later.”

 

Deep down Stiles knows he's overreacting and that he has no reason to be angry at Isaac or Erica. This probably isn't their first time being in a sticky situation and it's probably not Derek's either; getting caught by the police didn't just become a thing when Derek started hanging out with Stiles, so he can definitely take care of it himself.

And yet, he still feels like Isaac and Erica were all too dismissive of the entire thing, and of Stiles. After all he was trying to help, even after Derek abandoned him, he was still trying to keep him out of trouble. The least anyone could do is take him seriously, not just pat him on the back and send him on his way. Stiles isn't a messenger.

A bad idea makes its way into his mind only for a split second; maybe he should call Derek and tell him about the file and this Peter guy. Maybe he should call Cora and find out where they are and go there himself.

They're both pretty flawed ideas, mainly because Stiles is 99% sure neither of them would pick up if he called.

He feels useless and trapped and nothing has even really happened yet.

“So are we doing this or what?”

Stiles blinks back into the moment and tilts his head up a little, following the familiar voice.

Danny's looking down at him with a soft but skeptical look as Stiles kneels between his legs. They're in the back of Stiles’ jeep, he remembers - he'd called Danny after being shooed by Isaac and Erica.

It's takes him another few seconds before he notices the shirt half rolled up Danny's stomach and the jeans and briefs hanging low around his ankles. Danny clears his throat a little awkwardly and his eyes shift down his own torso and fall on his lap. It's literally only then that Stiles remembers his fist is wrapped firmly around Danny's dick.

“You haven't...done anything for like ten minutes,” Danny says softly.

On instinct Stiles swipes his fist up slowly, as if testing to see if that's really his fist, and Danny makes a strangled noise at the friction.

“Sorry. I was...thinking about something,” he moves his fist again, frowning at how foreign his hand feels.

Danny's voice is a little shaky when he says, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Stiles brushes the pad of his thumb over Danny's tip, he's tempted to lick it clean when he sees the precome but he doesn't. “I didn't invite you here for a therapy session,” he regrets the bite in his voice but continues moving his hand up and down.

He can feel Danny start to pulse under his skin, can see his fingers digging into the cushion of the car seat either side of him. Danny's lets out an ah noise when Stiles fists tightens around him but when he moves to wrap his mouth around the Danny's head, a hand come down on his shoulder and stops him.

Stiles frowns, looks up at Danny's drawn out face and sighs. “I'm fine. I want to.” he assures with one long stroke, “just relax.” His voice is soft and a little louder than a whisper as he leans forward, lightly grazing the inside of Danny's thigh with his cheek.

Danny's shudders and makes a quite whining noise before stiffening up, “Stiles wait,” he says, making a long face that warns Stiles there's going to be a lot of talking ahead, even still he doesn't move his hand. “I know this is like some fantasy of yours or just a way to get off but I - we don't - we can talk as well.”

Stiles looks at him blankly, that's not really what he wants to do right now. Doesn't want to talk or even think about what's bothering him; about Derek or his Dad or Isaac and Erica.

All he wants, right now, is to suck Danny's off and call it a night before he has to go in for work. You would think Danny would be happy about that.

“I'm fine.”

“Dude. You're not.” Danny's says as a matter of fact, “And I don't want a half assed blow job just because you can't get out of your own head.”

Stiles sits back on his knees and finally unwraps his fist from Danny's dick. He shuffles back a little so the other boy can sort himself out, tuck himself back in and zip up his jeans. Then they sit in a bit of an awkward silence.

“I wanna talk to someone but it's hard to say what's bothering me without giving the full story” Stiles starts, he's looking at his lap and starts absently playing with Danny's undone shoelace. “And I can't give the full story because it will hurt someone. Someone I actually care about, even though I probably shouldn't because he's kind of an asshole. I thought we had something but it turns out we didn't and now there are just all these reminders of him and - he went away - and now he might be in trouble and I can't protect him because he's not here, and most likely doesn't need my help but I still want to give it.”

Danny's speaks softly, “Why did he leave?” and Stiles had almost forgotten anyone was listening.

“I...I honestly don't know.” His hands ball into fists, “That's what's so frustrating. I don't know if it's just because he's a fucking deserter or because he couldn't stand me or because he was scared of what he might do to- someone. Or if he left because he didn't want to do that, because he knew it would hurt me and he'd rather run away than do that, than hurt me.” his voice feels far away soft and it's strange to think he was giving an un-enthusiastic blowjob a couple minutes ago, and now he's pouring out his heart.

He looks up a little sheepishly towards Danny's who's just kind of sitting there, absorbing it all. “This probably makes no sense.” he says.

Danny's purses his lips, shrugs, “You were involved with a complicated guy and then he bailed. And you're all torn up about it even though you guys weren't um, exclusive?”

“To put it simply, yeah.”

“Aaaand you think what we're doing,” he gestures a little unsurely between himself and Stiles, “will what? Replace that?”

As if a stiles wasn't already feeling bad, now he gets to add guilt to the list of things putting a real dampener on his summer.

“It's okay, this was kind of just a thing for me too.”

“Was?”

“Don't let this go to your head but, I kind of like you.” he says and rolls his eyes.

Stiels hold back the biggest grin, he moves like a snake back between Danny's legs and braces himself with his hands on either thigh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And seen as this boy drama is over and your new obsession with my penis, I think we should do something about it.”

“I'm not obsessed. Try morbidly curious,”

“Whatever. I'm just saying if this is all it was with the last guy, and that made you feel shitty, then…” he clears his throat, uncharacteristically nervous, “it doesn't have to just be that with us. If you want, I don't know whatever, don't smile at me like that”

Stiles can't help it, it's fond smile. He leans up and shuffles a little closer so they're almost face to face. Danny's cheeks are a soft pink and he bits his lip when Stiles presses the palm of his hand over his crotch. He kisses him sweetly on the mouth and Danny makes a small surprised noise, before cupping one side of his face.

He pulls away quite quickly and falls down on the back of his legs, hands still hovering and moving over Danny's crotch. “Alright.” he starts, “I'll let you take me to dinner.”

Stiles can't tell if he's just amused by Danny's sudden interest in him or if he actually wants to see if this could go anywhere. Either way, he's got to do something else to get over Derek, other than falling back into a relationship just like theirs. He can see how being Danny's warm mouth could get boring after a while - and not just because Danny's hadn't yet offered to return the favour - because eventually one of them would want more. Stiles defiantly wanted more from Derek.

But that's not the point.

Danny. Danny wants to be with Stiles and it's been real fucking stupid if Stiles didn't at least see if he felt the same. After all those years pining over the guy, there's got to be something there other than teenage boy lustfulness.

“You'll let me?” Danny repeats, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“Yeah, I'll let you. After.” with that, Stiles moves his hand to undo Danny's jeans and pull him out of his briefs for the second time.

 

 

~~~

 

 

The diner is usually pretty empty during the weekdays, which means Stiles and Erica sit in one of the booths and have their weekly catch up time. Mostly it’s Erica who talks, gossiping about customers or gushing about Boyd. When Erica talks about Boyd being affectionate and funny, even hilarious, Stiles just sits and listen intently. He doesn’t believe a word of it. Can’t even fathom the idea of Boyd; serious, unfriendly, sarcastic Boyd, making a joke. But, to be fair, Stiles and Boyd have only just started to actually get to know each other.

When it comes Stiles turn to speak he rarely has anything interesting to say, which is lame but he’s been spending most of his time at work and Erica knows all the happenings that occurr during work hours. He’s told her about how much nicer Isaac is being and that Boyd might ask him to be the best man at their wedding - she snorted at that - but other than that he has nothing to report.

He would tell her about the parties and lacrosse practice but somehow whenever he’d go to say something about the siege of Jackson’s bathroom or how loud and crazy Keri agents when she’s drunk, it just didn’t seem appropriate. Apparently Stiles’ mind had seperrated his two groups of friends. Not for any reason in particular but he does have this slight suspicion that Erica and Isaac and Boyd don’t really approved of Scott and the gang. For one, thy never ask about lacrosse or why Stiles come into work with a hangover. He’s pretty sure he mentions Scott a hell of a lot but neither of them ever ask how he is.

Plus, they make it pretty obvious at school that they hate the lacrosse team, for cliche reasons.

So Stiles just doesn’t mention it or then.

With one expception, Danny.

Stiles hasn’t told Erica, or anyone, that he and Danny’s are going steady, he’s not embarrassed or anything or ashamed it’s not like E or the boys knew what he was doing with Derek. He’s not cheating. And yeah, Danny has said they were dating and that he didn’t want their thing to be like Derek’s thing - a secret, but he’d also said that he was only letting Stiles blow him because he was bored. And, in an ideal world, Stiles would like to keep him as bored as possible because the idea of not getting to blow someone has become oddly daunting.

“So, you haven’t asked about Derek in a while.” Erica says, folding one of the napkins into oragami. Her tone is unsuspecting but makes Stiles uneasy nevertheless.

“I don’t ask about Derek” he sits up a little but it’s probably not convincing, “a lot” he adds.

Erica gives him a look, tilts her head to the side and stares blankly at him.

He knows exactly what that look means. Bullshit. The first week Derek had been gone it was as if the only words left in Stiles’ vocabulary were _have to heard from Derek? Is Derek okay? How’s the big guy?_ Once he tried _How’s Cora?_ to try and get more of a reaction from Isaac but was met with a similar blank stare.

As far as anyone’s concerned Stiles and Derek had a love-hate relationship based on a mutual understanding that Stiles would keep his mouth shut about any and all things concerning the Hales. If it ever gets around how desperate Stiles started acting once he left, Derek would most definitely shove him against some hard object and threaten his life, and not in a sexy way.

“I didn’t think I was allowed,” he says finally. “You always ignore me or tell me not to worry about it so I just stopped bothering you with it.”

Erica shrugs and modestly presents her oragami in the center of the table. Stiles adds, “I don’t care anyway,”

“Fair enough.”

And for a few moments Stiles actually believes it, that he doesn’t care. Anymore.

But then he remembers sitting in the diner like this with Derek, in a situation like that Stiles would be doing all the talking; teasing, making jokes that he knew Derek wouldn’t find funny just to see that beautiful deep frown he gets on his face. Sometimes he would catch Derek smiling at him through the corner of his eye but he’d never bring it up until they were alone, at which point Derek would call him a liar before roughly pulling him forward and kissing him feverishly on the mouth ...and everywhere else.

Stiles sighs, there’s no way Erica’s believing this performance anyway so he might as well ask, “Why? Did something happen, did he call you?”

The smile that Erica gives is adoring and a little pitying, doesn’t make Stiles feel manly at all. Then she raises an eyebrow and says, “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.” he says it too quickly. “I just wanna know if he’s coming back, he only forced more to take this job so he could keep an eye on me. I’m curious how he’s going to do that from fuck-knows where.”

Erica tilts her head to the side, purses her lips and shrugs. She looks please with herself, like she got what she wanted; Stiles blubbering and stumbling to defend himself when it’s so obvious he does care about Derek.

Anyway, his phone vibrates on the table before he can dig himself an even bigger hole.

He puts the thing to his ear and rolls his eyes softly, “Scott if this is about practice I have a good excuse,”

_“I know you’re at work. It’s not about that,”_

“I was gonna say I’m already one of the best players but, er yeah sure, that work thing is appropriate too.”

Stiles can sense the eye rolling that’s it more than likely taking place on the other line. _“Anywaaay,”_ Scott says, _“You get discount at the diner right?”_

“Yeah…”

_“Awesome! We’re all starving and I just realised I’ve never come to see you at work, it’s my duty as your best friend to embarrass you in front of you co-workers. I know you’d do the same for me,”_

“True. I would. Yeah, come see me it’s kinda empty and Erica’s being mean.”  
  
That comment earns him a kick under the table before she grins poisonously and walks away.

_“See you in a bit buddy!”_

Stiles says goodbye and puts his phone back in his pocket. He walks over to the counter where Erica’s checking herself out in the cash machine. He presses one of the keys that opens the till and she jumps a little and then glares at him.

“If you’re bored you could actually do your job instead of irritating me,”

“Perhaps. Anyway what’s my discount for this place?”

“Discount?” she throws her head back and laughs hysterically. “You come in late or hungover and don’t think I didn’t notice you and Derek messing about in storage when he was here.” Erica folds her arms over her chest and licks her lips, “Bad employees don’t get discount.”

“Bad emp- how dare you?” Stiles puts a hand over his heart dramatically and drops his jaw.

“You and your little sports buddies can pay full price.”

“Is this because I called you mean?”

“Maybe.” She smirks and then her gaze shifts to whoever’s behind Stiles and she clicks on her Erica charm for the customer.

  
Stiles feels a little awkward as Scott and the team pile into the diner, they head to one of the bigger booths but it’s still a bit of a squish. He can feel Isaac and Erica’s eyes on them as they grab for cutlery and glasses and just generally make a lot of noise.  
But more importantly Danny’s with them.  
Like everyone else, he hugged Stiles when they arrived but it had been a little longer and a little tighter. He’s almost certain at least one of them caught onto it.

“Stiles man, where’s your sexy apron?” Aiden taunts and pretends to make it rain with the paper napkins.

Everyone giggles and Stiles admits it’s moderately funny.

“I don’t actually have to wear that.” he says,

Danny’s sitting closest to him, where he’s standing by the table, and says, “But you should.” with a little smirk.

Stiles winks and starts to feel a little less uncomfortable about serving his friends or the watchful eyes while he does it.

“Are we gonna order or what?” Jackson says, he’s sitting next to Danny, obviously, and tapping his knife on the table impatiently.

“Oh yeah can I get cheesey fries and curly fries!” Kiras little face lights up and Scott strokes a hand through her hair. “I’ll have the same bro,” he says.

Stiles makes a scribbly note of it on his paper and then looks at the twins next to them. “Strawberry and banana milkshake and I want curly fries as well. Oh and two hamburgers.”

“They’re both for him,” Ethan adds and makes a mocking face of disgust at his brother.

Jackson and Danny are last to order, Stiles makes a note of everything then walks back over to the counter. Scott makes a point of slapping his ass as he passes him.

Stiles doesn’t say anything when Isaac and Erica try and pretend like they weren’t staring and judging. Everyone came straight from practice so they’re all wearing their jerseys and yeah the sight is kind of cliche and disgusting. He pins the order note and then looks at the both of them dryly.

“Just be nice. No secret sauce.”

“I’ll try my best,” Isaac says before grabbing the note and disappearing into the kitchen.

Stiles and Erica watch from the till as Scott tries to stop Ethan and Jackson butting heads and getting ketchup everywhere. Eventually it takes Kira catapulting a tissue ball off the end of her fork into Jackson’s ear.

“Your friends are weird.” Erica says, “You’re so lucky you have us normal people to hang out with.”

Jackson glares at Kira but he wouldn’t dare react. Not only is she the captain but she would totally kick his ass. Danny excuses himself and starts heading towards the till, Stiles catches Ethan’s longing gaze following him over. How sad.

“Hey beautiful,” he says smiling brightly.

Stiles is a little surprised at the compliment and Danny’s forwardness which he probably shouldn’t be by now, and Erica knows Danny so it’s not her being there that makes him uncomfortable. The closest Derek had come to publicly complimenting him was this one time he said Stiles wasn’t a total fuck up at dishwater duty. And they say romance is dead.

It’s not until Erica leans forward and flicks golden locks over her shoulder that he realises the comment hadn’t been aimed at him. “Hello handsome.” she replies and Danny bows his head a little.

“Um hello? I’m standing right here?”

“Ignore him. He’s really enjoying playing the victim today.” Erica makes a dismissive gesture with her hand then walks over to one of the other occupied tables. A baby’s spilled some milkshake or something, the usual.

Stiles looks at Danny accusingly, ready to in fact play the victim card to his blatant favoritism.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Danny says, “I’ve always liked Erica more than you.”

“I like Erica more than me. But still, I’m having a shit day a bit of flattery wouldn’t hurt,”

“I give u enough compliments as it is,” he says, his look a little suggestive.

It makes Stiles smirk and feel a little smug. “I earn them,”

“Whatever. What are we doing tonight Jackson’s finally moving back to his parents.”

“Finally? How long was his sleeping on your sofa?”

“Only two days but he can be such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“That doesn’t sound like Jackson.”

Danny tilts his head and looks at Stiles blankly.

When the food arrives Erica’s the one to serve them, it’s the first time Stiles doesn’t see her smiling at customers. She just puts the tray down and passes out the food, talking only with her eyebrows to ask what belongs to who.

As she’s about to leave, still glaring, Aiden grabs her wrist - a very big mistake on his part - and says, “Stay like that it’s a good view.” referring to her slight bent over pose that shows her cleavage.

Stiles spends 70% of his time with Erica in a day and yes he’s noticed her breast. She’s a woman so she has them, can’t help it. And yes some of her tops are low but what is she supposed to do?? Not have breasts?? It’s never been a problem for him or any other customer that comes in. But Aiden is a piece of shit.

Isaac approaches Stiles at the counter just as Erica gets that poisonous smirk on her face. Both the boys watch in awe and anticipation for what Aiden is in for.

“Milkshake,” Stiles bets, folding his arms and nodding surely.

“Nah, my money's on the fork. You don’t need hands to play lacrosse do you?” the smirk on Isaac’s face is almost as devilish as Erica’s.

“She wouldn’t.”

Stiles doesn’t believe the words even as he says them and any ideas about Erica being all bark and no bite are quickly diminished when she does in fact stab a fork right into the hand wrapped around her wrist.

Aiden screams, like a full high pitched scream that has everyone in the diners attention. With no intention of helping the situation, Isaac scoffs and goes back into the kitchen most likely to tell Boyd. So Stiles is left to run over to the commotion and do some damage control.

It only takes a second to bandage up Aidens wounded hand, meanwhile Boyds calm voice reassures the other customers everything’s okay. Stiles and Aiden return to find Erica chitchatting to Danny next to their booth. Aiden moves passed her cautiously to get to his seat then the entire tables eyes fall on Erica expectantly. Danny nudges her and she grimaces, crosses her arms over her chest and says, “I’m not apologising. Enjoy your meal.”

It makes Stiles smile. He shrugs at a disapproving Danny and then gets back to work.

As if that little spat of drama wasn’t enough, Jackson later decides tone a world class asshole.

Stiles isn’t concentrating when everything goes down. Everyone’s getting ready to leave, he and Danny are sat a little way from the group not necessarily talking about anything anyone else shouldn’t hear. Danny plays with the lose fabric of Stiles shirt as he talks, it had startled him a bit when Danny’s first reached for his side but he soon became used to the attention. Infact, he kind of likes it, the fact that some part of Danny always has to be touching or near him..and isn’t scared to do it in public.

Danny’s talking about going back to school and how Kira and Scott are really gonna be on their asses about practice when he sees Isaac run over the group and separate Jackson and Boyd.

Both boys stand up immediately to see what’s going on. Jackson has this smug look on his face that even without context Stiles knows for a fact he’s in the wrong and wants the punch the lights out of him.

“What happened?” he says, moving to stand next to Isaac and Boyd.

Boyds chest is tight and moving quickly but his face is still that fixed calm. Behind him, Erica is almost all red in her face, her eyes are dark and lidded and her glare is stabbing right through Jackson. When no one answers, Stiles looks to Scott confused and desperate because he can’t take the tension for much longer. Scott sighs heavily and says, “Jackson just apologise.”

Jackson scoffs, “For what?”

Stiles would like to know for what as well.

“Jackson,” Danny says softly. It’s the tone a parent would used when their child misbehaves.

“Fine.” Jakckson says and it’s a shock to everyone. He straightens his back, “I’ll apologise to bitch, bitchy and _the help_ when she apologises to Aiden for stabing him with a fucking fork or have we all forgotemotional tha-

Stiles isn’t really sure what comes over him. He’s wanted to hit Jackson Whitmore since the day he met him so he’s not surprised he does it, just shocked he finally got the courage.

“Who the fuck are you calling the help?” he shouts, now bent over Jackson’s body and ready to beat the shit out of him.

He can hear Scott and Danny telling him to get off and he hesitates. Jackson’s nose has already startled to bleed from the initial punch, maybe that was enough. It’s Boyd who picks Stiles up by his shoulder - effortlessly because the guys a fucking rock - and pulls him away from Jackson.

All of sudden Stiles feels silly for reacting like a wild animal when Boyd didn’t even seem to flinch. Really he just feels bad that he’d brought these people, his so called friends, to the diner and they’d treated Boyd and Erica like shit the second they got here. He doesn’t mean to but he imagines what Derek would’ve done if he were here and Jackson said some stupid shit like that. Jackson wouldn’t have a fucking tongue is what would’ve happened.

Once the adrenaline leaves Stiles body he shrugs off Boyds grip and goes to the kitchen to wash his now bloody hand. As the water turns red Stiles remembers Dereks hands looking this way on more than one occasion. He never gave explanations as to why, just shrugged it off whenever Stiles asked.

The kitchen door swings open and Boyd enters. He walks over and takes Stiles’ hand in his to examine in. His mouth twitches and it’s the closest thing to smile Stiles has seen on the guys face, he makes a note of it to tell Derek. Or not. Whatever. It’s just a good feeling.

“Thanks.” Boyd says.

“I’m so sorry I even know people like that.”

Boyd shrugs his shoulders, they look heavy. “You’d be surprised how much crap like that is said. That’s kind of why I stay in the kitchen. I like working, the money’s good but I’m not really a people person.”

“Yeah? I couldn’t tell.”

The mouth-twitch-smile thing happens again and Boyd claps Stiles on the back as they walk out of the kitchen. “You’re alright Stilinski.” he says.

Stiles lets that sink in for a moment and smiles stupidly to himself.

 

~~

 

 

It’s a few day later and Stiles has started to fall into a bit of a routine, a healthy one. Going to work; he’s been be taking earlier shifts so he can leave in the middle of the day and get in a few hours of practice.  
Danny meets him and they show up together, if nothing else it’s making Scott happy. Things have cooled down since the diner incident, Stiles is convinced Jackson is scared of him because he makes a point of completely avoiding him during games but he used to do that even before Stiles rearranged his jaw. Still, it remains the highlight of his summer, next to going down on the hottest and grumpiest drug dealer in their grade. Speaking of, Stiles no longer finds himself trolling the social media for Derek and he’s becoming less and less frantic about those files looming on his father’s desk.

So overall things are okay. Sure sometimes it’s weird hanging  
out with Erica and Isaac and Boyd and not having Derek in the corner snarling at him or getting  
high by himself in his jeep but life goes on.

It better.

It’s on one of those days, getting  
high in his jeep, that the universe says a final _fuck you_ to Stiles gradually forming stability.

He stumbles out of his jeep, humming whatever song he let play out on the radio. It’s midnight and pretty cold and he just can’t wait to get inside and wrap himself in his soft bed sheets. Fuck yeah. He grabs a bag of chips and two chocolate bars from the cupboard to satisfy his munchies, before kicking  
off his sneakers and jogging  
upstairs.

When he first sees it he just shrugs it off as a dream because, yeah he’s dreamed about coming home to find Derek lying in his bed before, multiple times. But holy shit it looks real.

Stiles drops his food and walks into his room a bit further. He moves to flick on the light but then thinks against it, if Derek really is lying there, sprawled out in the middle of his Stiles’ bed in just a pair of jeans - which just can’t be comfortable - then it would be rude to turn on the light and disturb him. Stiles is only certain this isn’t a figment of his imagination when he notices the duffel bag sitting on his desk, it’s not his and definitely wasn’t there when he left his house this morning. Fuck.

Derek stirs in his sleep and moves his legs under the covers. Stiles immediate reaction is to be angry or annoyed or confused but he just, can’t. He doesn’t want to be. By all rights he should be, this guys been M I A for nearly two weeks and then just shows up in Stiles house in his room in his bed? How did he even get in?

Stiles drags a hand down his face and moves closer to his bed. He’s careful not to make any sudden movements when he sits down and turns toward Derek. It’s almost impossible to be angry at the guy when he’s making theses little soft snoring noises. His hands are pushed under the pillow and his head is dug deep into it. Stiles hates how cute he finds this.

He puts his hand out to touch Derek’s shoulder but instead just lets it hover a little way above his face. His heart sinks when he notices a small cut on his cheek and another on his lip that’s got a bit of bruising around it. Stiles pulls his feet onto the bed and moves so he’s lying right next to Derek. He hates this. This is probably the worst way for Derek to come back to him; asleep and banged up. He’s also too high to be dealing with this right now so he just quickly changes into a pair of sweatpants - Derek might be able to sleep in jeans but Stiles loves himself too much for that - and then crawls into bed with him.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

Eventually he turns onto his back, after quite a long deliberation on how creepy or not creep it was to watch Derek sleep. He made a pretty good argument that it was probably more creepy to break into someone’s house and sleep in their bed, but whatever. He’s able to maybe get in an hour or two before he hears shuffling and wakes up to an empty bed. He checks the time on  
the phone, it’s 5.44AM, and curses lowly. Stiles quickly sits up and scans his room. Nada. Fuck, maybe he did just trip and Derek wasn’t there at all.

His bedroom door being open and the light in the hallway being on tells him otherwise. He waits patiently at the end of his bed, facing the door, and half hoping that it’s just his Dad getting in. It’s only when Derek walks back into the room in all his shirtless glory that Stiles properly reacts to the situation. He has to react fairly quickly before Derek makes his way over to Stiles and looks at him with this oblivious expression, in that time Stiles experiences several emotions; the first is anger. Now that Derek’s awake and able to defend himself, all Stiles can think about is punching him in his stupid and perfectly defined jaw. The result of that would be less than pleasant for Stiles, probably. Then he’s frustrated - yes sexually. He hasn’t seen Derek in just under two weeks and even with a busted lip and various other purple bruises decorating his skin Stiles can’t help but shift a little uncomfortably in his all of a sudden too tight tracksuits. That makes him disappointed, in himself for being a slave to Derek’s sinful appearance and in Derek for being an asshole and leaving and being the sole reason for this frantic need to touch and be touched in the first place. Lastly, he’s just tired. He hasn’t slept and he’s less than excited about the inevitable conversation that will take place. He’s already exhausted by Derek evading his questions and he hasn’t even asked them yet, so he says finally, “What are you doing here?”

Derek’s eyes are soft, brows slightly raised and something about it, and the dark circles under his eyes, tugs at Stiles’ chest and he regrets the bluntness of his tone. Then Derek does something like a wince before grinning wickedly and folding his arms over his wide chest and shifting his weight on one leg.

“Well, shit.” he starts, his eyes give Stiles a once over where he’s sitting only a few steps in front of him, “I missed you too Batman.”

The nickname rolls off Derek’s tongue as if he’d never stopped saying it and Stiles tries not to react too much to it. He also doesn’t stare at the way Derek’s muscles push against his chest, like they’re too big and the position is uncomfortable. He’s especially not phased by how soft his skin looks.

Stiles clears his throat and says, “You broke into my house Derek. What if my Dad had been here?”

Derek rolls his eyes, his grin only fading slightly as he closes the space between the two of them. It’s a challenge. Derek can obviously see Stiles fighting with himself to not just fall back into their old ways, he knows that his anger towards Derek is outweighed by his want for him. In other words, Stiles is transparent and Derek is lapping in it. “He wasn’t.” He states bluntly and shrugs.

“And that makes it okay?” Stiles says, trying to keep his voice steady and face stiff.  
  
Derek sighs and his eyes tighten a little, “Last I checked nobody died, so yeah.”

Stiles give him an unsympathetic look and then turns away. It takes a minute before he hears Derek huff, then he’s unfolding his arms and reaching for Stiles, “Okay fine,” he says, defeated, “I should’ve called. I just wanted to see you.”

This almost makes Stiles burst out laughing but he’s tired so he just scoffs, “If you wanted to see me so bad you had to break into my house, maybe you shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“Really? We’re gonna do this now? Can we eat first?” Stiles gives him a deathly blank glare, “No? Okay.” Derek claps his hands together and his chest rises as he takes a deep breathe. Stiles waits all too patiently for whatever bullshit excuse he’s about to come up with for being the deserter he is, “I left because I had to.” is all he says.

Stiles looks at him like Really? That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself asshole? Then he remembers Derek’s lackluster conversation skills and takes a softer approach. “Okay but why? Because of my Dad?”

He’s a little surprised when Derek doesn’t deny it. “He wasn’t going to say anything.” Stiles reassures, feeling a lot like a broken record. “I told you that. I asked you not to-

“I know, I’m sorry.” Derek's shoulder drop, loosening as if the words were heavy. “When I sent that photo I wasn’t thinking about you I wasn’t just trying to cover my own ass.” His voice is rough and he doesn’t look at Stiles for several seconds. When he does his eyes somehow look more tired and for the first time Stiles considers that maybe Derek had been getting a lot of sleep either. “It was selfish.” He finishes.

“And stupid,” Stiles adds and gently presses his fist against Derek’s stomach to nudge him.

“Alright, that too. But I’m back now so can you at least pretend you missed me.”

“I didn’t.”

Stiles isn’t sure he wants to let Derek off that easy but he just doesn’t have it in him to be that angry right now.

Derek smirks and he’s standing right in between Stiles legs now. It feels really good to be this close and that’s all Stiles can think about right now. How good Derek feels.

“Oh yeah? Well your messages say otherwise.” he says, arching one of  
his eyebrows in a way that’s makes his eyes all lidded and sexy.

Nevertheless Stiles is adamant to play the angry card for as long as he can.

“Fuck you that’s not even cute. I was worried about you and you didn’t reply to any!” he says.

“I’m a big boy. Plus I had cora with me nothing bad was going to happen.”

Stiles thinks that’s fair, even as his fingers blindly trace the bruise on Derek's ribs. He doesn’t wince or move away, in fact he closes his eyes and leans into it. At that, Stiles rubs gingerly with the pad of his thumb. Derek bows his head slightly and without even thinking about it Stiles reaches up and brushes his knuckles over the cut on his face. That makes Derek open his eyes and look directly at Stiles, this desperate kind of longing look. It makes Stiles ache.

“Does it hurt?” he asks stupidly because he just needed to say something to distract his brain from Dereks scrutiny.

“Not really.”

“What happened?”

There’s desperation in Stiles’ voice  
that Derek quite clearly hears, acknowledgeds, but still brushes aside.

“Don’t worry about it.”

It’s a slap to the face and Stiles can feel himself getting annoyed again, even with Derek looking like he could quite happily melt under Stiles’ touch. Then he leans forward and cups the side of Stiles’ face and brings their lips together so slowly.

Not to be dramatic but it’s probably the best kiss Stiles has ever had in his life so far. That could partially be down to the fact he’s been craving it for ages, missing Derek's mouth, needing it like he needs air to breathe. It’s warm and hard and possessive and Stiles doesn’t have the faintest idea where the emergency came from. All he can think is that maybe Derek missed him just as much.

When he pulls away, Derek's hands linger on his shoulder and the back of his neck, his own hands are around Derek's waist.

He breaths and says, “Have you eaten since you got back? We should have breakfast?”

Derek shakes his head and smiles knowingly at Stiles, who is still trying to fight the inevitable. “I’m not hungry for breakfast.”

Stiles makes an embarrassing noise when their lips rejoin but they both just laugh it off. He stands up and let’s Derek take off his top before maneuvering so he can push him down onto the bed, onto his back. It’s what he’d really wanted since seeing Derek in his bed - that and to beat the living shit out of him for leaving in the first place.

Derek's smiling up at him from the mattress, smug and probably thinking he’s won the argument but Stiles is not done talking about it yet. He just needs to get his hands on Derek's ass. And his everything else. After that they can discuss things properly. Priorities.

They kiss until their lips are red and wet and swollen. Derek draws out Stiles’ bottom lip and grins wickedly then tilts his head and offers his neck as replacement for his sore lips. Stiles happily accepts.

  
His legs are tangled with Dereks in a way that means they’re crotches grind against each other when either of them move and yeah, it’s feels fucking awesome. Stiles has created a little rhythm that seems to be working for the both of them - if Dereks strangled moans are anything to go by - before Derek eggs brows of it and goes for broke. He pushes his hand into Stiles tracksuit bottoms with ease and slides his hands perfectly against his dick.

Stiles breathe catches in his throat and he tries to position himself at a better angle, also trying not to just fuck into Derek's fist. Essentially that’s what ends up happening until Stiles sits up, straddling Derek’s torso, so he can get at his dick more easily.

Derek’s eyes are full of this dark fascination as he watches Stiles twist his body and thrust into his fist. He moves painfully slowly, wiping delicately at any precome and then stroking. Stiles can’t believe he’d forgotten how good this feels, how good Derek makes him feel.

He can feel the tight hot build up in his dick when Derek gives it a long pull and he just relaxes and waits for Derek to take the orgasm from him. His mouth hangs open and his fists clench where they’re balled up in the sheets and-

Nothing. Nada.

Stiles rocks his hips forward into nothing. Derek’s removed his hand.

“I haven’t seen you in more than two weeks. I think we can do better than a handjob.” he says and that has Stiles grinning. It’s not until Derek licks clean the hand he’d been using that Stiles starts salivating at the mouth.

Derek ignores it, shrugs like it’s a normal thing when in reality it’s the most filthy things stiles has ever seen. He gets out of his bottoms completely and Derek down the same before crawling to meet Stiles in the middle of the bed and kiss him sweetly. Stiles grabs Dereks ass and pulls him onto his lap where he’s kneeling and buried his head in his neck. “I missed you,” he says for the first time and flicks his tongue along Derek's jaw, grazes it with his teeth hungrily.

“I know.” Derek runs his fingers through Stiles hair, “So prove it.”

Stiles actually gasps, like out loud. He draws back, enough that Dereks hands still sit in his hair, and raises both eyebrows. His jaws on the floor and his eyes are lit up with childish hope.

He stutters as Derek just looks at him a little blankly, “You- what? You want me to…”

Eventually Derek pulls Stiles down on top of him and gnaws at his bottom lip again, this times growling sexily.

Stiles keens, “Fuck,”

“Precisely.”

He adjusts his legs so Derek's thighs rest on top of his, propping  
his ass a little ways off the bed and at a good angle. A fuckable angle.

“Is this okay?” Stiles asks before putting anything anywhere or in anyone.

“Whatever you want batman,”

“Can I fuck you on your stomach?” His says and then adds quickly, “This is awesome too I just, love your ass dude.”

Derek rolls his eyes and smirks but turns over. He puts his arms on either side of his and rests the side of his head onto the pillow. He sticks his ass up a bit and Stiles gets a hold of it as soon as he can.

He hums to himself as he spreads the cheeks, plump and soft and squishy.

“You’re obsessed,” Derek says and it’s not far from the truth.

Stiles doesn’t even try and defend himself. He does however, brush the pad of his thumb over the rough skin of Dereks hole. That shuts him up; Derek makes this whining nose and butties his face a little in the cushion of the pillow.

Stiles does it again, with purpose this time. He smiles when Derek reacts the same then he decided to take it up a notch. He bends down and just goes for it, flicks his tongue between those beautiful perky cheeks and hums from the back of his throat so Derek can feel it. That elicits a bit more of a reaction.

He uses his fingers to massage and caress Derek's ass while his tongue does all the real work; flicking and sliding filthily against his hole so she makes this beautiful whimpering noise that could almost be described as a cry. It’s makes Stiles rock hard.

“Stiles, _please_ ,”

Stiles takes that as permission that Derek wants, or perhaps needs, a little more but he’s not entity done playing with him so he just pushes a fingers inside.

“Could you cum like this?” he asks, it’s more of a curious thought that just escapes. “Hypothetically. I’m not that cruel.”

“Probably, _fuck_.”

He pokes another finger at Dereks hole, thinks about asking if he can even take another but this way is more fun. Derek arches his back and moans into the sheets and Stiles just grins at the sight of this hunk, practically squealing underneath him. God, he can’t wait to fuck him.

“ _Stiles_ ,” it’s followed by this little strangled noise that makes Stiles cock twitch.

His eyes are wide and curious and and so hungry when he asks, “Are you close?”

Derek pushes his ass towards Stiles fingers, trying to chase his pleasure. He nods quickly when Stiles obliges and pushes his fingers further so his. knuckles brush against the cheeks. “Fuck really? That’s so hot.”

“Stop fucking around and get inside me.”

Stiles pouts, “But you look so pretty like this,”

“Stiles, I will still kick your ass.” Derek's voice is steady, if a bit breathless but Stiles know he means it. Even stil, it’s just so amazing to see Derek like this all messed up and whiny and Stiles hasn’t even fucked him yet.

He thinks about giving up, he does really wanna get inside Derek but he also just as badly wants to see how much this beautiful criminal can take up his ass. Just because he can, he adds another finger and Derek's ass basically welcomes it. It’s a sight to behold.

“Oh, God,” Stiles breathes, “You’re like...perfect.”

He twists his fingers around, fascinated and in love with the way Derek's takes it and how much he loves it, moves his hips back as if to fuck Stiles’ fingers. That definitely has Stiles close to spilling all over the bed sheets. He removes his fingers and quickly positions himself behind Derek, lines himself up before sliding into him.

Stiles does something like buckle over and catches himself with one hand on the mattress and the other on Derek's hip. He spreads their legs and places a small kiss on Derek's back, over his tatt before he starts moving.

At first it’s impossible to make any noise, it’s just so tight and feels so good and yeah. But then Derek wraps his fingers around Stiles wrist by the side of his head and starts pushing himself back onto Stiles dick.

 _“Fuck yeah,”_ is all Stiles can say, it’s lame and he’ll regret it later but it just feels too good.

He lets his hand dip and follow the curve of Derek's back until it reaches his shoulder, then he grabs a hold of it and just starts giving it to him. Derek burries his head completely in the pillow and balls up his fist. He spills out a chorus of muffled curses and tries to hold his ass up as his orgasm is quite literally fucked out of him.

Stiles in turn, buries his head in the arch in the back of Dereks neck and thrusts his hips hard and fast until he feels that familiar tight hot build up and he ruts out his orgasm, spilling all of it inside Derek. He lets out several shaky breaths against Derek’s skin before pulling out and collapsing beside him.

Derek just about has the energy to un bury his face and turn to look at Stiles.

Stiles manages a smirk and wipes a line of sweat from his stomach before saying, “This definitely means you like me.”


End file.
